his hands are a weighted blanket
emanating comfort and love
his hands are a vice
holding my body as my spirit ferociously erupts
his hands are a feather
tickling me to senseless fixation

his hands release me
from fear, pain, the past

Feels like
your drifting
Slip sliding away
The ball
started rolling,
The drifter
in you needs
To go out
and play.
The smiles
have gone
Replaced
by frowns
Go with
my blessing
And create
new sounds,
New horizons,
Views what you see
Please find in your
Heart to drift
back to me.

Woke up from a bad dream
Went to take a ****
I no longer teach
******* times like this

Lay in bed and lonely
Softly falls the rain
Tokyo to Kyoto
On the bullet train

Little Reno, Nevada
Little Sage Ridge School
Mr. David Markson
Harold Bloom was a fool

Tacos again today
Sleep perchance to dream
I miss my departed mother
And my basketball team

                 Silent Scream.