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Energies

I had, for so long, believed that I could only write about what I truly felt for, admired, or was stimulated by; something that could revive a certain memory or emerge from an instantaneous urge to put words on paper.…
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All Roses on the Gunshots

And the night shall fall short to spell, Another rain on the parched blood soaked in airy blue. To let hopes sulk in deep on concrete black road, Waiting to roll over with words invited to crack skulls open. …
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Energies

I had, for so long, believed that I could only write about what I truly felt for, admired, or was stimulated by; something that could revive a certain memory or emerge from an instantaneous urge to put words on paper.…
Read more

Poetry

Chasing Her

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been chasing her. Not a woman, really. But something like her.A silhouette in the distance—sharp, confident, impossible to forget.She walks like she knows the answers. Talks in riddles. Smiles rarely but meaningfully.And…
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