I do not think my brain was made to hold these swirling thoughts that dare conflict so strong. I withstand their onslaught until I fold, spilling out the words I’ve held in so long. Locked up alone, lose myself in my pages. The lines and their rhymes merging together, fragments of beauty coaxed from their ...

Tis early, on a dank and foggy mornAll the groans of lovers sound inside outAnd their bed lights shine on the icy lawnEven the yapping canines have lost count I’m wandering these streets, groping on trustLike the bad old days of whiskey and wineI’m looking for her last piece of stardustAll I find is some ...