Does it rush at you, too quickly and sinister, as if lying in wait for a wakening? You had a fondness for a thing ambered now, in its beauteous fade. What’s left for us, after such withdrawal, stewed, now, in the certainty of worry? Chastened in the land of hurry.


Sense you all

You won’t have to tell me how to touch. Where to begin. What emboldens, or brings wild abandon. With ease do i see your gilded cage and its fearsome keeper. And, we know why rules were made, don’t we? Your measured steps tell of fear, not of love. I have a fear too, but of […]



In the wrenching spell of nightmare, something cadaverous, phosphorescent on the forest floor. Bleached like a drowned man months missing. Current-carried, caught on some subterranean thing. Tell me it isn’t you. Tell me. Oh, my Son. My life.