Without fear
Primordial oozing
Sipped through straws
Bony fingers
On clammy hands
The hangman says
It’s reckoning day
Calls boys and girls
To come and play…
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Grief
Great Expectations
I’ve spent too long
Memorizing the pauses in lovesongs
Looking for a man
To fill the gaps
With his presence.
A wicked emptiness
A life devoid of self
I found myself alone…
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Cold Prose
We claim
To know those
We had close
To overdose on
Cold prose
To wallow in
My poetry
A symphony of
Sympathy…
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Promises
Softly, deftly
Night caressed me once again
I sat, drinking the ink from my pen.
What’s once more,
when the glass is always half empty?
What’s once more,
when my screams into the dark
are met with no echo…
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Departed
Silent sighs
That come in threes
I count them out
With shaky knees
Don’t fold
Don’t falter
Or try to alter
Still, the frigid cold
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