nothing seems to work around here tires losing air, dirty windows, broken windows, locks that don’t…
I enjoy a good chair in my room a chair of woodsturdy n’ straight-backedthe way they…
Husk In The Yield
A Poem
Kicking down a back streetIn foggy London townMy head up above the clouds
A Short Poem
This, My right mind,Something I cannot find,I need it to hide behind,Earthbound, ground or.
The word “every” robs our days of their innocence and splendor.But every has lost its meaning in that…
