It seems so often, within the night,I am set adrift, unable to write,for a want of any reliable ink,as I converge upon the brink. While thoughts and feelings swirl,my life passing by in a whirl,so yesterday becomes my tomorrow,stuck on...

Funny how I do feel like a pawn,before this now setting dawn.Each day over before it has begun,eclipsed by a forever waning sun. Just another creature of the night,sealed in tight within the write,treading water in all of this ink,struggling...

It remains so hard to then hedge,when you live here on the edge—live on the cusp of life and death,separated by only a single breath. Peering down from this height,within a dark and endless night—a never-ending sea of black ink,here,...

I.A molten twilight ink dripsacross my most longing parchment—each word fragile as an emberglowing with untold tales. II.My quill trembles in my fingers,a poetic bird on the cusp of song,plumage dipped in a black riverof all my unwritten desires. III.At the...

I do love letting my mind now roamin some poem within a poem;hear rhymes between these lines,put there by my unaware designs. Just a single moment in time,camouflaged under all this rhyme;the truer message I intend to sendwhile these stanzas...