In the midst of total madness and confusion, the gruesome streak of dull paint across the Wall, the mire of our ignorance, marshes of our...

What is repaired, homegrown, like Tartarus’ own, the make of the dead, rise up, give Voice to thine own resplendence. I know that it is....

Love I wear proud like a cape, and loneliness, and Sorrow, I huddle beneath a blanket when the Night is thick, before it is split open...

I have addressed my life like a letter to arrive at your doorstep, very likely in ravages, torn, unrecognizably ancient, but weathered,...

And again, the affable resurgence. I am not used to love, nor used to Love. It spills out of my eyes in tears, yes, but also I am found...

Sorrow in the city, Sepulchre of Light. Here, what's good is foolish; here, what's wrong is right. Let us find the others, wherever they...

Love is a delicate practice, an intricate balance sought forever and ever, a feather in the palm on a treacherous, windy day, a wildfire...

That Beauty wears a hideous attire is no Secret, but it is abundantly Unknown. 09/20/2016 Richmond

Whoever spouts darkness has an affinity for the Light. Death is a resemblance, as dusk retains the Dawn in its resilient hatred, like a...

I have come, caked with mourning, seeking your company like a dog. I have come out of myself, out of my bed of disillusionment, when I...