Fight among yourselves, if you must.
My music has a gray and gritty sound.
Was there a gaping hole up there somewhere?A void where this piece of sky no longer perched?
Long moments of silence can make space for truth.
The ostrich is not native to this land. Pull your head out.
I’ll be your audience, rapt and adoring. Still and reverent.
STRANDED There’s no place you can go When the very vehicle in which you’ve arrived At this godforsaken spot Finally breaks down, Leaving you stranded Here, in this place you never
EXPOSEDI want to scrape it all off of me. The agony of raw flesh exposed to the salty air Is nothing compared to the Agony of staying inside this decaying shell I want
BATTLE The morning energy of the soldiers is palpable Like performers about to take the stage. Some jitters, some posturing. Idle chatter and the sounds of busyness Arms and legs are being bound
TWEETING OFFLINE What are they saying? What do they mean? Is it a song of love? A message of truth? News? Poetry? Or is it just the sound of pleasure at hearing their
Golden gates swung open,With a crown of poppies in my hair.And I am all you never knew you wanted.