Time is unraveling. Connecting to an unknown force. A force that is exciting more so. Similar to how humans wish to be in the stars. Only this human is in another world. This human is unraveling like time itself. This human is almost no longer a human. He is more like a song of painted…
Tag: Ink
Seafoam And Sirens
Canvas of an unrecognized willow trunk. Droplets of rain given up on by the sky canopy. Colored veins of a painting never finished. A story blotted out with desolated ink. Projects buried and unremembered upon. Crafts beneath the shelfs down each isle. A yard full of pieces and parts, torn and engraved. Each part described…
Friend Or Foe
Peace and joy can be stunning in a heavenly way. Poems about true love and a happily ever after. How I enjoy those wonderful endings. In this world of human and art. I do not want to only see something filled with smiles. Humans have an attic in their mind. A web with droplets of…
The Unsigned Writer 