written: Dec. 23, 1999 Sweet are the memories That lackadaisically unfold in my mind. (Rest for a moment) Sweet is the smell Of perfume carried on my laughter As I close my eyes (Lay back)
written: Nov. 1, 1999 I hardly reminisce nowadays. Trapped in the cage Of having a living and no life. Should I step into this world Holding myself in a thin glass bottle. Weak are the Gods. Strong are the demons I bring with me. Shrouded by sunglasses. Covered below long hair. Hidden beneath the weight of my clothes.
written: Sep. 25, 1999 Woke up And stepped Into your dream. Watched the words Sputter away from my lips Like ghosts I am the voice whispering Below your fears Welcome to my world
written: Apr. 4, 1999 Deadened, deadened to the world We try to speak to Angels Empty thoughts Joyless laughter Fills the vacant mirrors We confine ourselves Emptiness is what the dreams is made Emptiness is where we fall Somewhere tossed between the sheets Make up the moment
written: Jun. 18, 1998 what am i supposed to be doing what am i supposed to be doing what am i supposed to be doing am i supposed to be watching tv? what am i supposed to be doing what am i supposed to be doing what am i supposed to be doing am i supposed to be taking a walk?
written: Sep. 25, 1997 The artists sit quietly In their white studio apartments Marlboros in ashtrays The painter seeks that special hue of blue. The poet seeks to release his soul To revel in the center of night In solitude they all sit, As the demons spin and twirl, Through the smokescreen of shadows.
written: Jul. 8, 1997 just eggs with no yoke hallowed eyes hollow eyes there are no more souls in the house of Christ a flower should be chosen before us therefore we must murder the flowers rise no more blossom never again
written: Jun. 5, 1996 Lips wet to taste the moment The memory steps out into the fog Damp are the dreams of dead men Moist souls leap from their bodies And the moment falls away…
written: Apr. 16, 1995 A tear rolls out of the corner of her eye, And into the palm of my apologies. Hot driven mad I raced. The cool rain splashed madly into my eyes,
written: Mar. 20, 1994 I haven’t the spirit. Today has arrived enveloped by the placenta of yesterday’s memories Finite dreams warmed in a Mother’s womb.
