And so a cliche I've become, or something like a whoresome nun , and thoughts of us are wholesome none, they blaze above and slice the sun which tears to pieces one by one, my doorways that my demons shun. And memorable I try to be, before the deluge swallows me, of moaning lips both... Continue Reading →


And what of magnets? They attract.

You would think that being absent from here for so long would have had me spewing pent up poetry out of my eyeballs and earballs but, no. There is for the first time ever I think, a block occuring. I say that, but no doubt by the end of this outpouring I will have squeezed... Continue Reading →

Things and stuff

Tea pots often boil. Well, actually they boil if you switch on the heat, so it's not really their fault that they become scalding hot. Although their purpose is to be filled and get not hit you autocorrect monster, I meant HOT .How dare you presume to know my words before I have said... Continue Reading →

Only Here…

Touch my hand I need you so And in a cliche, don't let go. My lips that crave you, ache to feel A soft caress, a love to steal. Dark hair that whisps upon your skin, As deep I hunger here within, My rivers flow with raging beat It hits these parts that swell with... Continue Reading →

Verus amor in somnis aereum

Havocing and wreaking in the constellations of mindful slumber, where only dreams are visible to Horatio and his philosophy, though chided he is for daring to use his imagination. There I reside, wandering through a forest heavy and blanketed¬† with trees, reaching out to me, urging me to keep moving, for I am one of... Continue Reading →

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑