your eyes are as empty
as a million dead suns.
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It's always getting late.
When I am not writing this is what I do.
"In the present we are always in memory." - Trish Keenan
It's always getting late.
Introduction
This blog is a virtual notebook of writing that I maintain as often as I can. Poems, stray lines, random observations, all co-exist here. Revisions occur as needed/deemed fit.
See/Hear
A Chronological Archive of Joy and Heartache most often referred to as LIFE
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▼
2008
(100)
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▼
March
(34)
- Many Lives, Many Masters
- Purse Your Lips And Look To The Sun
- The Dead Voice Of Reason
- Oh Yes.
- What Is Worth It?
- Where The Golden Pond Meets The Ocean
- The FUTURE
- Jigsaw Pieces
- Blanche, Alone In The White Woods
- Rend Your Heart...
- A Game Of Pool With Fate
- Lotus Flower
- Serial Monogamy
- Welcome To Reality
- Prediction
- There Is Always Something More Terrifying To Learn...
- Patterns and Patterns Within Patterns
- 2 quick thoughts...
- I Guess You Could Call Them Bad Choices
- Like Losing Love You Never Had.
- Destroy The Dam And Let The River Flow
- I Drowned Before You Could Save Me
- Ambition Will Make You Or Destroy You
- Brief Spring
- quote
- Wishfully Thinking
- Shit Or Get Off The Pot
- Mine? Uh...
- Canadian Acid
- Finally, Rest For The Weary Heart
- Fact
- My Life. Rough Draft #1
- Let Your Beauty Be My Truth
- Sing Your Sorrowful Heart Out To Me Again My Love.
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▼
March
(34)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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