With young and critical eyes I saw them everywhere; those lifeless circles draped over objects which seemed to be a marker for relics and a symptom of antiquity. I touched them with small fingers, taught twisted yarn intertwined often in the form of a flower in surreal colors ( Read more... )

"Now is the winter of our discontent ( Read more... )

This is my looking glass ( Read more... )

I write to you from the precipice of modernity, the comfort of american wealth, and the squalor of a life poorly lived.
Tis been long since I've written and I do so ever miss your comforting attentiveness and ever patient demeanor.
You are my journal, and I... am your Scribe.

How I long to see with God's eyes where I am on this journey of my life. ( Read more... )

My thesis is simple we're deaf, blind and crippled.
Hold fast amendments, fingers stay nimble.
So lets start with the media;dead man's academia,
systematically ill diagnose and provide the hope to reclaim it.

Magazines and tv spit dope on kids minds like abercombie sellin'
tight jeans to girls with bulimia.

Reality shows, gripe about their rich ( Read more... )

as many days and hours collect dust on the time that I haven't written in you. You wait the same ( Read more... )

lets play like we did before with turned heads as the eastern winds remind us as the memories flood our hearts ( Read more... )

everyone takes one step as i press behind... slowing down ( Read more... )

words forgotten written over rubbed out we all hum alone now and again ( Read more... )

without shame or fear i'll swing fists until they make contact with flesh and bone ( Read more... )