I've lost grip,
my pen is sauntering about, aimlessly...

It feels just right,
not to know your face...

Perhaps from a weird angle
I'm flattered by your summery nonsense...

Isn't it like me,
to throw caution in the air...

I am an artist
plagued by poem...

I said to him, "Flattery will get you...
Except there...

There's something about the air in Fall,
it begets this chill inside...

If selling raunchy lingerie on Ebay
is okay...

Watch out, lost pet
there's a storm closing in...

No one teaches a flower how to wilt;
it just knows when to wither...

As of late, the poems I've read
don't really grasp the potential...

I heard a song today,
it spoke of love...