There are far better places to while away the time, yet we continue circling like reverse-vultures. This obtuse concrete garden (no doubt designed by Daedalus, whose Labyrinth was but a flea compared to this circus) leads us astray in every … Continue reading Airport Carpark. A poem.
You are the prowling shark loitering in choppy waters waiting on a hint of blood to fuel your hungry needs. You sniff and search for snippets to exploit, building trust with deception to cover your misdeeds. You are a betrayer … Continue reading Backstab. A poem.
I’m not sure how some of my poems come to mind, or why they are all so dark.
Oh, yes, I do. It’s because I’m a depressed and anguished soul. Well, that was easy. Next question? Continue reading Eyes. A Poem.
I hate having depression. It’s not hard to guess what I wrote this poem about. Continue reading Mountains and Valleys. A poem.
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