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The whir of the air conditioner The hum of the refrigerator The deafening sound of silence Straining to hear the echos of children playing The twitter of birds The conversations of friends The sounds of a life My life Reaching out to the echos of the past I am surrounded by walls Collapsing The world […]
is it sadness or is it madness that permeates my soul this longing for TIME LONG FORGOTTEN BY MOST a time of carefree youth that I squandered NOT REALIZING one day it would be gone so busy chasing an elusive dream never stopping to see the beauty in the sun wanting to grow up so
Writing is something I do alone. It is a time to think my own thoughts in my own head. Explore my soul my feelings my hopes my desires. My writing is not yours to claim, to scrutinize, to devour with your prejudice and criticism. I don’t want someone over my shoulder reading what I write,
Two plastic eggs On a fake china plate Two embryos Vying for life in a petri dish Two ideas Whose time has yet come Waiting for life to be breathed into them Like a man that is way past his prime Socks sagging around his ankles Shuffling feet Heading no where fast Walking to the
