Here in the killing season, youth are a crying shame. It’s gunplay without reason, here in the dying game. And as their clothes turn stainless, at least they’re finally painless. For all this heinous treason… which faction do you blame? I’d love to save… all my tears… for every child of… yesteryear. Still, there’s […]Read more "– children of yesteryear –"
Still illustrating my dreams under smoky moonlight, while bullets bust the seams, thus threatening tonight. Still writing fine drama for all these old faces, while directing make me wanna retreat to dark, bold places. I never… can ever… truly seem to find… such strength… at length… so fear’s always behind. I’d give… to live… for […]Read more "– d.j. at twenty-four –"
You didn’t tell me so… but neither did I. Aren’t I man enough to admit that I don’t take my own advice? Aren’t I noble enough to stop offering advice in general? The winds of change don’t blow me the way they should. The winds of change don’t even knock me down today, or any […]Read more "– snapped out of denial –"
I don’t reblog other writers’ pieces… but this one is too thrilling not to share!Read more