freeverse
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Her lips taste of absinthe and full moons. Her scent is of purple sunsets and pure passion. The nectar of the gods as near as I can tell— She mystifies me, fascinates me, Challenges me. I have never met anyone like her before. It throbs like an itch In desperate need of scratching Overwhelms my…
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What is there left when hope is gone? How do we go on? When knowledge enlightens, The horror is revealed. Then one must live with the sins of the rest. And somehow try to sleep. Fellowship is what we have. Love is left when hope is gone. Togetherness. We don’t need All the things They…
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To etch feelings Into semi permanence in some vain attempt at capturing them? What purpose do words serve? Can you place them in an order That will evoke the feeling That spawned them? No, and what does writing do to our stories? First the scribes which was only slightly less abrasive Than the printing press…
Musings of the Mad 