A poem for the taxed and confused
On this night, my love is flesh;
unsated and empty, hollowed
by the drifted tides of the world.
see how the air falls
through amber's perfect prism?
(not actually luck)
stacks, with interest;
keeps you happy in your place.
Writer | California Son | alan-hanson.com
This was my world that you quaked.
This was our joy that you took.
Show me how to start, the story of your heart, can’t be unread…
Caught in a Briar Brush
It is nights when you feel so distant
you dream of another place
Fingers turned to rope.
Meeting internet addiction on the page