straitus clouds whimpered
as hot sun scorched their layers
tears drizzles on Earth.
8/3/2020

Let me be your little birdie,
Nestle in your arms,
Lay your eggs,
Look after your nestlings till they learn to fly away,
While you and I sit on the rooftop,
Watching our children make their families.
7/3/2020

Death is stalking me.
It watches me play cards,
smoke cigarettes, and
drink beer.
It took my parents, two
brothers, and all my friends.
It got Chris last week.
20 bottles of whiskey in
seven days, I suppose that
would **** anyone.
They found him on the
railroad tracks.
Death is stalking me.
I won't cheat it.
I won't escape it;
but before it gets me,
I bet I finish
this poem.