Reckless Void

Leaving the party you step outside Sit on the step and watch strangers pass by The music is muffled through the door But now it’s the only silence you can find Because tell me, please tell me you remember those days we’d dance until midnight under the stars When Mondays were just another day When … More Reckless Void

Fickle Thing 

They used to walk in the moonlight  Hand in hand  The world would fall silent  Their words flowed like water and felt like silk warming their heart like a fire But love is a fickle thing  And it destroys as easily as it cures  Working its way in between the burning sunlight and bitter darkness  … More Fickle Thing 

The Dock

There is a place so gentle that it will forever be in my heart. It captured me with its beauty and silence. A gentle way of telling the truths of nature and cleansing its surroundings. For it is not in my possession and I have only been there enough times to count on my fingertips, … More The Dock

History

I don’t think history has taught us anything It just seems to serve as a ‘how to’ guide for the next disaster or tragedy A manual for the sick and twisted Society has suffocated us and estranged us into these meaningless, cookie-cutter lives That distance us from the true desperation and heartache of the world … More History

A dark, silent war

Our futures become both fuller and emptier Striking a balance between deafening noise and strangling silence And I’m relentlessly trying to escape the path confining me The tendrils of the past imprisoning my feet, my lungs, my mind Breaking loose and leaving a red army in my wake A weak and somber defense against the … More A dark, silent war

Response to “so you want to be a writer” by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you in spite of everything, don’t do it. unless it comes unasked out of your heart and your mind and your mouth and your gut, don’t do it. if you have to sit for hours staring at your computer screen or hunched over your typewriter searching for words, … More Response to “so you want to be a writer” by Charles Bukowski

The Black Hills

I sat on a balcony somewhere in the black hills of South Dakota I didn’t have to think about the next book, the next page I watched the hills rise to the stars with a jagged peak of trees, brushing the sky like paintbrushes dotting the galaxies above, the sky their canvas The air was … More The Black Hills