I slowly removed the knife from my heart
Handing it back to her, she gasped in amazement
There was no blood
There was no pain
She had exhausted her power
Because she had exhausted her love
All she was concerned with was the cost of the knife
art is dying, not because of ignorance or apathy, but because it is being bludgeoned to death by a constant barrage of mediocrity and shiny objects
when we are exhausted,
when we fail,
when we hurt,
when we bleed
when we need someone to stand up
to say, don't worry,
i got this
Love is an act
an act of contrition
for a world that deceives
for a world that lies to us
october,
when the darkness prevails and the floorboards creek
the attic dust is stirred by the arrival of winter's guests.
only to be veiled by the light of day
but the candle will show the way to where the dead have slept
history is clearer through the lens of time
i have bravely wandered into oblivion
There will always be another hill to climb
The humid air is dense and still
The Jay's screatch and the Crow's squawk
Break the morning silence,
and mark the passage of time.
We live again today,
there is no promise of a tomorrow
Life is a Dream,
It's all just a dream.
imagine
tell no one
fabricate what was imaginary into reality
tell everyone
