You raised the words from the paper I wrote them on.Gave them sound and shape,then sculpted them into a song.Calm turned into storm.Fluttering up the wrinkled cloths.Lyrically reborn.Such joy to hear my inked down thoughts.A soothing guitar strum.A lingering...

     "Whore! Wouldn't wanna be you!" A hoarse voice slurred from the open window of a car idling at the intersection of Union st. and West Columbus Ave.         The "whore" in question stood as emotionless...