Touching the dark I move closer to youwicked indulgence, my craving for youa lusty desire to seduce.  Captivated, you look at me with hungerthe night is jealousand pushes shadows onto my soul, where you look deeplyand realize the demomess I amprovoking...

As the evening stretches beyond skyscrapers  sunset cracks windows and voices,  midnight lies as a would-be lover  counting her footsteps across Brooklyn Bridge  to an anonymous apartment, where she imagines  waking to her lipstick on his coffee cup     Washing machine skies spin skeins of colour  red always bleeds into the blue and JFK...

  The Scarf A Story by Randall   This is a short story I'm working on. Only up to twenty-one pages so far, taking my time with this one, very special to me.   WarningThis Story is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for readers...

From living,  to memory,  to dust,  to forgotten.    My beloved, so many pictures, so pretty your grave, so sadly forgotten.    From heat of blushes, to the cold of death, to existing in memory only, to forgotten dust in the wind.