A tourist in my mother country
I write for the tourists. I don't just mean the ones seduced here by fast money and high, gleaming towers; who think paying $15 for…
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And There Shall Be
Each of usIn abstract isolationAn insulated existenceFugitives pursuing forged gravitySurrounded by empty facesEndless nightsFall in different directionsSomebody and nobodyAre the same person
Conquest of Illusion
Scarlett jewelswarm riverscent of passionvisions blurredgaspingreaching out
Midnight Waltz
Howling wolves echo loudlyacross the empty marsh;Through my soul.Sharpe steel blade reflectsbright full moon;All its light.memory of young desireInnocent child's dancePure no more.
Storytelling
It's so difficult to tell a story. The blank canvas is the most liberating thing, but also the most terrifying. What picture will I draw,…
Ramblings & Random Rants 