Your pin was on the back of your first debit card.

Security still leaves much to be desired.

Isn't it amazing how things have changed and been rearranged?

Now we blame everything and everyone for what the worlds become.

Banks, governments, people, wars, money, websites, businesses...

even the last time we lost.





Greed?

To tell the story of my love for you, I would have to write a book without words...

A book full of white pages,
a book without numbers in its corners...
a book that can speak without ink.

Only you will be able to read and understand my white page love.

I would go out every day and sit under a lost tree next to our silence.
Without ink I would sit there and write to you...
without a word.

The sunset would serve as my dictionary
and memories of you would play music in the background.
"It happened while we weren't looking."
"I'll go with you."
If I wrote something like that somewhere in my book without ink or words, would you write back?

Can a man make a fool of himself writing books without words or ink, laced with irregular white page love?

Words aside ...

The thought of your smile while you browse through my book of white page love -
enough reason to write another page for you tomorrow.

It's been a long time
Since I've written anything
Feels good to be back.

Quiet and uneasy.  
The voiceless breeze at my back was thickly draped with irregular design.
There I was... staring at my warped reflection in the remoteness ahead of me.
A  revelation violated my over crowded mind and before I could even fathom my displacement,
the moon started melting.

As if calling out to werewolves,  the hypnotizing moon started dripping moonlight.
Glowing moon drops crashed to the ground and I found myself surrounded by the dreams of a thousand  kings.
Beyond the limitations of clockwork, I found myself surrounded and under siege by the visions of a thousand visionaries.

There I was.
A captive to crowns of light.
Taken.

A hostage to a deserted kaleidoscope of angelic halos...
So many blinding halos, all riddled with hidden wisdom and rare moon drop truth.
Halos infected with unfound secrets handed over to the chosen...
Secrets handed over by the masters of celestial emptiness themselves.

Like euphoric dreams within our nightmares...  
the same nightmares  found within our lost dreams...
The same lost and misunderstood dreams that dwell within a moon drops angelic halo.
Rare truth and untouched wisdom were  just too pure for reality.

It would take the hallucinations of a thousand truth serums for us to conceive thier virtue.

*Gene

I am a writer
I never was a fighter
words are my weapon