Sunday, March 08, 2015. Hannibal is at the gates. The city throws them wide open. Welcome, enter, ravage, pillage. To the victor goes the spoils. Thursday, March 05, 2015. It is the warm and the cold. Meeting, merging, separating. The meeting of your cold, my warmth. A building storm, a typhoon, a monsoon. Of our convictions, foundations. That my spirit longs to unravel in.

She flicks her last cigarette. On the ground and steps on it. Then grabs a broom to sweep. The street of the ashes. That remind her of him. No filters left in the ditch,. Until there is only the quiet. That comes after the sound. Of the last embers fizzle out. How he loved to smoke. After they made love, how in turn,. She loved to watch him hold fire. At his fingertips without getting burned,.

An intertwining of shadows and colors - shards from boulevards of broken dreams, dizzying prismatic cascades of brilliance. Be drawn into the murky whirlpools. Drink from punctured holes of sunlight. Whether you seek respite or redemption, this is only what you make of it. But we remain, always, our own guardians. On a rock, I carve. An inscription of my name. With the little, sordid, tangled. Deaths of day-to-day battle,. I will ensure my immortality.

Friday, December 28, 2007. When your eyes filled up with. Have come to fear the most,. And I darted across,. I picked one up,. Also, you can read all of 4 comments. Thursday, May 10, 2007. Then we really have to go.