Don’t grieve at the stab. It’s only meant to free you. From the chains that bind you to the earth and shackle you to the shadows of people. The mirage of water cannot quench. But is so beautiful to the thirsty. I’m afraid. Of never knowing another life. Different. So... Read More
I have this problem. Anyone who’s been in my company has probably noticed it. And anyone who knows me can attest to it. A scab cannot exist without me picking it. If there is a scab of any sort, it *must* be picked. And I can’t rest until it is!... Read More
This is a poem I wrote 10 years ago. Its a poem about the search for purpose and the paralyzing pain of not knowing it. Niche My bones want to melt My muscles want to let go My body wants to stop Walking, Struggling Fighting, for air, for life. My mind painted... Read More
