“Letters” I wrote you a love letter.But it burned before you could read it.There, in the warmth of the sunThat was in your eyesWhen you told me you loved me. I wrote you a love letter.But pieces were stolen in the windWhich kicked up to blow downThe bri...
I first became aware of them when I was eighteen years old. The voices in my head began to clamor for control of me and it scared me. Metaphorically speaking, they carried pitchforks. They wanted to kill me or run me out of town. My voices had faces. Angr...
Let me see if I still can,Utter my words the old-fashioned wayWrite my stories at the old deskSpeak my languageEat my own foodDrink when I wantSleep when I wantEngage any ideology for the heck of itLove until my limbs acheCry until morningWake up in the m...
Crush rose petals between your fingers, or a mint leaf, and it expresses the beauty of its distinctive essence when it’s bruised. I think people can be like that, creating great art and literature out of poverty, sickness, prisons, wars and abuse. The chi...
Trudging the paths of life with no direction, I walked as I anxiously thought. A lot of doors in front of me, none were opened. There’s a voice inside me. There were voices behind me. All of them told me which door to open. I neglected what’s inside my he...
