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...

Creaking sound of rusted latch  sleeping alone again, naturally,  only secrets would let her in    I should promise you   my last kiss of summer,  for winter’s kismet kites are grounded  strung by ice lifeguards   rescue is the warmth between thighs    Pearls for breasts, silver skin limbs  opening bones as...

sadness answers me from deep withina lone sacred voice...melancholyblue infused with lonelinesslooking for something beautiful through the chaosquiet and pure with the fascination of a childbut with wisdom of the learnedgently she instructs me urging me forwardsometimes she is...