love in time | poem/song

even if we don’t talk for years and years I’ll still hold you close to my heart even when time separates us you’ll always be apart of my life, of my life and I won’t make a promise that I can’t keep and you won’t fall to time I can guarantee and you won’t fall…

now they know | stream of consciousness

what could they know finale part 1 part 2 ~ How many lies until I get to open the door to the real world? How many memories must I earn to be welcome to reality? I asked what could they know, I asked myself what I am– and with confidence I can now say it….

trading eyes | poem

mustn’t trade souls for I do not what is foreign. trading eyes– just for a small time!– will let us see this world in a new light from a different life. I see how the sunlight swallows the shadows to make this old city something golden, but only from your eyes. from mine you tell…

Cherubs of Blaiic | Poem

No greater beings can be found in the entirety of this earthly plane to hold the essence of spirituality and purity as the cherubs of Blaiic No human kindness can compete, no mortal action can compare to the effervescent vivacity within a cherub of Blaiic’s care They hail from a northern kingdom guarded by silver…

Winter Love | Quote

“The winter loves me… I mean as much as you can say a season can love. What I mean is, I love winter, and when you really love something, then it loves you back, in whatever way it has to love.” – A Separate Peace by John Knowles

Plight of Obsession | Poem

the phoniest of flattery the most lascivious of lies the cacophony of coquettish ramblings: all are the plights of an unreciprocated obsession, not born out of love, but of rabidly ill intent. ~ Sammicakes

queen in a clock at 6

Never mind your potential. Never mind your sacrifices and courage. Never mind your hours of work and diligence and persistence. Never mind the time it took and the tears it took and the friendships it took and life it took. Mind it no more. It’s time for you to look beautiful and gaze upon the…

Stairs to a Gaze | Poem

Put down in a pasture Meandering tongues and hands Counting, counted, and counting on more Never once thought of again, never spoken henceforth. – A time and temple of thought and solitude, more of bitterness and less of love Now just a deserted place that no person should enter Wondering, wondered, and wondering again Divine…

The Sad Man’s Rambles | Of Christmas and Stuff

Of Christmas and Stuff The man knew a few things for certain. He was no Scrooge. He was no Grinch. But he sure as heaven knew that he was no Santa. He didn’t mind the fact that at the tender age of four his parents had told him that Santa was a nonexistent being, one…