They cry "beautiful, beautiful” And I cringe Grateful for myopia As I tighten my turban Who dare calls a thing so imperfect Beautiful?
I was told fire can be friend or foe At times it consumes you beautifully Yet it obliterates you completely The next day.
a little blood is still blood
You trifle with mortality shun her kisses dismiss her with another sip of liquor oh manny you are running straight to deaths conference. An appointment you should be less eager to attend.
If I were a dandelion would you be a bee?
I am not the predictable clouds Or the punctual sunrise
What is borrowed, can never be owned. I return the leaf I borrowed so I can raise my tree, write my history, and lend out my leaves
If this is my last day shouldn't I be out of my house letting my skin absorb its last ray? Tell me what would be worse strolling about in meadows green or an hour long session with a life nurse?... Continue Reading →