Poems, Expressions and My Opinions On Spirituality. I Want To Live and Not Die.

Where words go to die. To be disgusted by society. Everyone looking for an instant fix. That will fuck for fun. Yet I want more than this. Sure men are the same. Looking for the next place. I want more than simple skin. I watch them use the words. That they do not understand. And fuck me for being who I am. The wind is blowing through the graves.

The old man was done packing- instead of leaving him satisfied, the emptiness of the house created a profound sense of loss. Wet balloons, and a heart beats.

I remember the glint of sunshine on her hair that day in July. I remember that the sun made her glasses shine and I think there was a smile on her lips. I remember that she had short,curly tendrils of hair that fell over her forehead and when she smiled,her nose crinkled up. I did not write about her then. Maybe in a different time,in a different world I would have. Written her a poem,perhaps a song. In this world there is not much I can do.