fervently attempting to express myselfwith molatov cocktails metaphorsbuilding my ego, bringing down my soulmy voice rises like smoke and insanity comes out of medarkness talks and it looks like sunshinea warm dappled day lulling you into peacemy voices warn...

Poetry is madness A ritual I do, but do not know.A night that conquers,Drunks me to helplessness.And it kills shame,Guilt. It hits you like an exploding racket.It shoots out you naked.

SANDRACharlie Brown had his littlered-headed girl and I had mine.We were both 18 and in oursenior year of high school.I was an abused child. Physically and sexually. I didn't date nor lookto hook up. I was scared and inhiding....

QUIRKY SOCKS Socks is an imaginary catthat I have had off and onsince childhood. The real Socks was a stray I found. His life ended abruptly inthe back of a garbage truckbecause of the sadistic womanthat I unfortunately called Mom. She said...