I am the backwards God;
the streets...

Back upon the ashen fields of whispers and
the soft touch of romance...

The apple hangs, in the shade of trees,
it's rotten and yet so beautiful...

Painting flowers white,
the faerie wish upon this bitter night...

Sick lightning thrashed,
And drum beat rain drowned my head...

Delapidating prison,
needle thin incision...

***The tall tale of pulling yourself from the...
Here you go, Lenny. I know you're smart enough to...

I pondered,
o'er dearest Abigail...

Silenc'd, by dreary skies of Love's night,
wander, bewildered, in galleries of moonlight...

***Another hopeless romantic poem.
To, you...

From a tower of despair,
that scars the sky...

***Simply put: To my Uncle Rob***
Painting the highways of teenage ache...