into ashes
the past like dead leaves strewn haphazardly at your feet. gods and dreams lose their luster in the clarity of a question...
this clockwork
when she turns her head just slightly away exposing the subtle curve at the nape of her angled neck is it merely...
a singularity
without another point a point is just a point floating in empty space with no dimensions to bind it or help define...
under it all
rain. slashing thru space. slanting thru gray skies to splash on this window today. monotonous and rhythmic with a beat like hot...
fading (into memory)
at the end of this charade what words are left to say? and would it even matter should i come up with...
bone dreams
if i could think dog thoughts and understand their woofy barks would my world be filled with bone dreams or countless squirrels...
paradigm lost?
all those words which you’ve heard piled high like stones have weight, have power to move you into joy or darkest despair...
as we always do
a story is just a story which ends as it begins as it must (as they always do), and those threads we...