Seems no way out, but deep within. There’s a resonant voice calling from the depths of my being; I am not what you imagine me to be…
Weep for the fallen warriors. Weep for those souls considered collateral damage. Weep for the profiteers. Weep for the deserters.
The essence of night is her infinite darkness, that cannot be measured by space or in time. She’s as large or as small
“Don’t say anything!” spoke the shadow in the doorway. I was seven years of age. I lay limp upon the couch, still recovering from
I am that scruffy urchin trembling in the winter chill, with hungry eyes as wide as your fancy dinner plate, staring with an empty longing
Late at night; another helter-skelter day, having flown off unexpectedly into alien domains of disarray. So many urgent moments
Is there any way I might touch yo… that doesn’t skim right off the su… of your exquisitely contrived vene… Is there a plea which I might utt… that would stir you from within?
I am seven years old. My brother is ten. The beating was brutal. My brother is recovering conscious… I believed he was dead.
That blue-gray rainy day, the blue-gray funeral parlor. There you were laid out in blue and gray. So still.
How does a landed mariner ever tell a living soul about the exquisite rapture of the sultry siren’s song ? As it echoed through the mist,
Neon lights buzzed in staccato out… Sleep seemed something I dare not… I took myself looking to ease my a… keeping to steamy side-streets and… heading for the part of town beyon…
The old priest gazes out upon his… each head bowed before the sacred… A scarred and broken bodied warrio… seeking inner peace and final abso… An elderly wealthy man of commerce…
trust the one who seeks the truth doubt the one who says he’s found…
I am here now. I have removed my outer garments, placed my trust within your circle… I have come because you promised. You told me you would be here
What you seek with such fervent zeal, as you scour those sacred texts and scriptures, is far greater than
