The Sky, My Window
The moon is the PacMan, frozen mid-game, that one bright star its perpetual goal, the last morsel left in the game.
In this world that hasn’t learnt about Windows and screensavers yet, how do you reboot?
The moon is the PacMan, frozen mid-game, that one bright star its perpetual goal, the last morsel left in the game.
In this world that hasn’t learnt about Windows and screensavers yet, how do you reboot?
If you must start the conversation,I will be the one to end it. If the conversations end whenever you want them to,I’ll decide when and whether they should start again. A conversation between equals deserves balance everywhere.
His voice holds me. His words unravel me. And the trouble is the unraveling, the undoing, the blurring continue long after the voice has gone silent, the line cold. Because words, they linger. Burning flesh wounds inside defenses. And everything else feels harder, sharper, steelier. I am in a world…
Two of today’s trending topics are obviously manufactured social media campaigns. I clicked through not because the tags engaged me but because I’m seeing so many of these, I feel I need to say something. Both use the same shoddy style that people who call themselves professionals, need to reconsider….
You’re nothing I’m nothing We could have been everything but we weren’t And maybe we never would have been. What’s left?
I’ve had a rather nice September after the rough times before that. Looks like my health diagnosis was a step in the right direction. I took a break from the Open Mic scene for a month which is why there haven’t been too many poetry videos. But if you saw…
Some conversations are traps, some are escapes Some are tunnels leading into dark cornersSome are treasure hunts turning up dudsSome are potholes ending in pots of gold Some are mere ritualsSome are verbal dances But only sometimes, are they communication.
Nice!!!!
@Sandman: An old visitor but first-time commentor! How do? 😀