Category Archives: Words
About me
I write for the release. I write, because I have no say in the matter. I believe that it is both a gift and a curse. I want to share that with the world. I write, because I love to
About me
I write for the release. I write, because I have no say in the matter. I believe that it is both a gift and a curse. I want to share that with the world. I write, because I love to
Same old song
I am troubled by your blasphemous disdain. It is appalling how you constantly refer to writers as fickle. Especially when you are unappreciative of what was written for and about you. As writers, we do not envision something new. We
Same old song
I am troubled by your blasphemous disdain. It is appalling how you constantly refer to writers as fickle. Especially when you are unappreciative of what was written for and about you. As writers, we do not envision something new. We
October
You come to me, your Jesus, With legs spread, begging. Sitting there, nude, as an Unravelled mystery. But, I am your shackles. Holding You down, stroking your Conscience. Your thoughts Drip onto my tongue. You Cry out that you cannot
October
You come to me, your Jesus, With legs spread, begging. Sitting there, nude, as an Unravelled mystery. But, I am your shackles. Holding You down, stroking your Conscience. Your thoughts Drip onto my tongue. You Cry out that you cannot
Taphophile
There’s something beautiful about cemeteries. The comfortable silence, penetrated only by the feel of the misty rain on your face. The clouds block the sun, inviting you to take a better look at what has become of the world. Words
Taphophile
There’s something beautiful about cemeteries. The comfortable silence, penetrated only by the feel of the misty rain on your face. The clouds block the sun, inviting you to take a better look at what has become of the world. Words
Read all about it
I can’t read the books that I picked up, fell in love with, and took home. I can’t read their pages, filled with love and torn romances, battered hearts and sad smiles, unmet glances and one-armed hugs. I can’t read
Read all about it
I can’t read the books that I picked up, fell in love with, and took home. I can’t read their pages, filled with love and torn romances, battered hearts and sad smiles, unmet glances and one-armed hugs. I can’t read
Stephanie
You’re a liar But an honest one You speak words that Melt in my hands When I write Letters and emotions Are just a game And you know exactly How to play
Shrine
It’s why I go to sleep To see that dreamy face of yours I wake up in the middle of the night Just so I can see that smile The one you get when you’re dreaming of me I look
My tomorrow (part 2)
She gets up and walks towards the window. She grabs her scarf from the chair and drapes it around herself. The way the morning light reflects off of her naked body is poetic. I follow her to the window, and I
My tomorrow (part 2)
She gets up and walks towards the window. She grabs her scarf from the chair and drapes it around herself. The way the morning light reflects off of her naked body is poetic. I follow her to the window, and I
In ash, on a windy day
You still didn’t write Or do you, just for him? Is he keeping you busy? Does it take up too much of your time or his to do something you enjoy? Do you at least read though? Perhaps something other
In ash, on a windy day
You still didn’t write Or do you, just for him? Is he keeping you busy? Does it take up too much of your time or his to do something you enjoy? Do you at least read though? Perhaps something other
4×6 or A4?
A picture is worth a thousand words. I’d rather have the pages. All folded up and carried around in my wallet. The wrinkles and creases don’t distort the beauty of what’s written, they add to it. You can feel the
4×6 or A4?
A picture is worth a thousand words. I’d rather have the pages. All folded up and carried around in my wallet. The wrinkles and creases don’t distort the beauty of what’s written, they add to it. You can feel the
LITTLE TALKS 