What we Love can kill us
just as easily as what we Hate.
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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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▼
2013
(348)
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▼
April
(30)
- The Last Page
- Beyond This Oblivion
- Don't Think About It
- Of Transitions
- A.W.O.L.
- CU.T.E.
- Every lie we've ever believed.
- lets
- Witness
- Passing Through
- Guts, Venom, Noise
- After Work
- Spectator/Performer
- Continuous Existence
- Getting Ready
- Must we grow callous to horror?
- Passion Without Reason
- Recline
- Natural Selection At Work
- Blackout Time
- The Painting Beyond The Frame
- Work
- Sleepless
- Springtime Armistice : 7 Chapters To A Better Ever...
- Stay As Long As You Like
- Apocryphal Notes From After The Apocalypse
- Mirrors
- Making Friends with the Darkness
- When They Call
- gratitude
-
▼
April
(30)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
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