Poems

I think there will be a horizon,
But it is raining nearby
I think there will be poison in the ear.


I think thee will be something left behind
In innocence an betrayal,
But there is the summer lies n the spearmint there always was.

There was safety.

In the wind.

Even in the wind tunnels.
I say make no promises.

In this place with poison lingering at home.

On the scenic beach of life, they wrote their names on the ground, only for the salty tears of earth to wash away,

Where anything rarely grows, young love did sprout only to be pecked away by the birds of selfishness.

To portray loss, one must've lost, to portray pain, one must've pained,
The bleeding blade of pain warned its wielder with a soul soothing whisper, it's kilt burning with flames of desire , perhaps she was too innocent,

Engage in TORNCITY each new morn,

Forget woes and duties and newly born.


Spouse urges, "Limit your gaming, dear,

Walks with baby, make memories clear


By rivals' might, to hospital's light,

In TORNCITY's grasp, a relentless fight.

Mugged by petty hands, left in dismay,

In this urban landscape, I find my way.