poetry

I chase the fear and force a face-off. My hopes hang in the balance. Across the threshold of resistance, is another me. Living the life I set out to live. Where possibilities are truly possible. The Mother who says you can do it- also says, "Art is not a profession."...

Morning mists give way to breath The way our lives give way to death. Painted trees in varied shades Between the realms, the boundary fades. The cold lays claim to frosted ground. Nature, lays to rest its sound. And those we loved but lost return, Who guide us through...

She was ordinary until angry. A thousand fires fueled the rage. An ocean burning, lit in anguish. How dare you skim and turn the page. As if you could mask or stall the temper... Or draw the curtain just in time, To hide from sight, the girl on fire... Fuck your water...

This morning, I remembered death was waiting. And regrets flooded my soul like an unforeseen rainstorm. Drudging up past and present shortcomings. A tall list of love me nots, have nots, and what nots. I heard the soft whisper of a winter ocean somewhere to my east. I...

My days are long and unyielding. Without breaks, so cut me one. Out of the fabric of time, which I gracefully draped around my neck in a noose like fashion. In study, I hung myself from the tree of life. But in practice, death keeps me waiting at its door. The great...