darkness dwells inside anger tremblesa lull in my speech means I am thinkingdevouring the light which shinesshrinking psychedelic thinkingstrobes of misery spinmy thoughts expandwith ideas of hurt to recallmy mind looks at the worldgood with fangs and clawsthe dark...

Under the slumping shoulders of the cafe's awningI watched tiny rain circles loosely burst in puddleson the ground whilemy hair lightly waved fromSeptember's weary winds.Nat King Cole sang softly"A Blossom Fell,"on small hanging speakers when she strolled byquickly catching...

A flower of imperfection, I am, waning with the passing seasons.  Springtime flowers budding to summertime flowering.  this fall time senescence  to wintertime death.  Black flower of psychosis, withering in bloom and beauty withering.  The season of fresh hallucinations  is indeed upon me!