In A World

Warmly held between the bitterness of yesterday, and the clarity of today, stands a woman that has neither fear or angst towards what has come. Rubbing her hand against the tombstone, she thinks of what lies beneath, both the rubbish of a human, and the crux of the ruse: Enthralled with the devil, he marries...

The Weak

Sanity is for the weak; Those too feeble minded to be consumed. Choices too easily reeled in Instead of carving it out like a freak. Sanity isn't for the broken, We prefer our tales hardened With some form of twist that life provides. We don't want to know the lie, Preferring instead the cold bitter...

Between the Lines

Standing in front of what was Loosely held in the core belief That nothing comes from what is Everything comes from what is not. Blank like tiles hidden in plain sight Forcing blows beneath benevolent truths Cries heard over the valley Though my banging indifference would disagree. Between the lines I crucified Where forests crept...