Black

I, now, sleep in utter darkness and wait for light to stop by at my door, and slowly seep into my room, my legs, my shoulders my neck, my ears, and my scalp I wish luminescence, but only partial I still haven't broken up with the dark yet this light is merely a pension for… Continue reading Black

Mediocre poetry

Poetry like every phenomenal human enterprise is greatly imaginative, and often deluded ignorning the pain that is living a life in waiting waiting for something brighter and better to come along to salvage a semblance of happiness from this suicidal wreckage. Poetry like TV, but worse misleads making us believe that it's actually a pursuit… Continue reading Mediocre poetry