And so the words mount, leading me wayward//In a room where the doors are all shut//Shambles and rubbish - thoughts to discover//Distant memories that have somehow come undone...
Shambles and Rubbish
Sticky Notes
I'll gather them all in a crumpled pile and watch as they writhe and convulse beneath the flame. Suddenly, they are gone. It's tragic that I can't do the same.
The Sun is Beneath Us
And so we sit in grotesque ignorance and hush our children as they gawk and point.
This Is How Things Are Done Around Here
Cold winter creeping in with a blizzard and a whiteout without any reason other than, "this is how things are done around here."
Ruminations of a Working Man, Pt. IX: Scatterbrain Whimsy or Bust
Back and forth, the world goes round, and I'm right here, right here, right now, and every word that comes from my mouth can't seem to say please let me out...
Utterances of a Weary Soul
The moonlight was irascible that night, and chilled me to the bone though all else was utterly balmy , with a slight breeze.
December Rose 