Inky darkness envelops
Soul, fake as it is.
And like the great
Dying of winter’s will
I freeze within that
Omnipotent abyss

I seek destruction
For humanity’s farcical suffering
Let the end flow from
These fingertips dipped in pain.
Like leaves falling from branches.

Writing is my love that
never betrays.
It doesn't lie or
cheat.
It never complains that I
leave the toilet seat up or
that I leave hairs in the sink.
It has never said, "You drink too much or
not enough." It always wins the bets,
sets the sun, and skins the cat.
It's always raw and never
well done—medium rare at
worst, and never burnt.
It doesn't ask me to
do aerobics or yoga, and it
would never tell me to quit smoking;
I would stake my life on it.
Writing is my love that
will be with me until
the end.

In the garden of your dreams
I’ll meet you there
Close your eyes and dream.
I’ll be waiting .

Shell ✨🐚

Strange object at sundown

Brittle heart

Living off the salt

Fighting for survival

Faithful as dogs

Broken as rock

The soil taking its soul

In the blaze of the sun

Stinging itself to death