Poetry: Over

Over I am I am over none of everything I don’t doubt, I want to sing but no notes come out melancholy blues give way to hues on the lowest spectrum we can fathom with the human eye. I am not everything but I am also everyone honest lies and …

Poem: Sixty A Day

Sixty A Day Already so used to the smell of tobacco at six I barely notice it permeate every surface of her house every hair on her head, that always reminded me of Tina Turner. Tap, tap, tap, another butt in the tray, flick, flick, flame, another lit in her …

Poetry: I Say

I say crying is good for you a release of endorphins your mind and body sorely needs. It’s a lie. Crying hurts, his now more than mine, every tiny tear stings, and my head hurts and hear aches as if I were crying, same as when I am crying. With …