Ripe for the Picking

Strange fruit
I am
Maybe if you take a bite
your soul will be nourished with my seeds


Flying the Coup

My feelings are like chickens
Simple to hatch
Hard to catch...


It Wants What It Wants

The heart can be wrong
and because of a lonely existence
may cling to the first handsome emotion
willing it to be the one beautiful thing it desires


On the Edge

My last fond memory of him
Was spent in my home
Right before I no longer lived there