Do not ask me to live.
You alone...
A little three year old
scampers crossed a creek...
When I stopped believing in Santa Claus,
I stopped believing in God...
A rolling cloud treads its way along tracks in the...
and through its mercy, a short Summer blast serves...
I shall grow very old,
within a mind shelter...
Outside, there's too much noise
and little room for hope...
There is something
about Winter...
Death is something
we must all do...
another headline
tumbles across a mass grave...
I write of grievance to the Reaper's will;
Who'll take me nether, just tho' it will be...
I am walking along the beach
cold foam is hitting my feet...
Oh clerk in black, swinging away with your silent...
the morning grass never stood a chance and it's...