Category / Poetry
Mired In Specificities
Oasis From A Barren Land
Stamp My Visa
She’s the sort who sees that to know if things are real, we first must get rid of our clothes…
Without the Labyrinth Within
Blood Carries Wisdom
Thy Quotidian Blindfold
By Her Own Hand
Before seeing through the mirror, one must realize it is there. Years can be spent in fear of it, or egotistically refusing to accept it.
Future Draws Nearer
Before seeing through the mirror, one must realize it is there. Years can be spent in fear of it, or egotistically refusing to accept it.
