I have the backbone for war, for blood soaked skin, hair soaked in red victory. Eyes bright green, manic with the dance of songs written before my time. My stomach is knotted at the thought of what lies ahead. So many broken people, who will effectively have to lay their swords down and trust me. … More Incoming, Oh YES!
Your restlessness has not gone unnoticed. Your heavy heart can be heard through the thin walls; it clangs like tins being dragged behind, tied mercilessly to lame footed, wearisome prey. Near surrender. Your pacing has marked the floorboards. Worn bare the carpet, exposing the pattern of your minds repetitive rhyme. Slowing down your own time. … More Dear Soldier
Some days, I spend the whole day feeling like as I walk, as I move, I leave behind a slight heat signature. A trace. Evidence that I was there. Like my mind is bleeding. Like my dreams and the bad things in them have found a way to come out. I miss time. Time misses … More Get it Right
My pistol is holstered, my knives tucked away. My neck exposed. My fists unwrapped; my mind hidden behind niceties and tea and cake. You have hidden your weapons. Your tongue speaks lies, and your eyes speak truth. You wage war just by being here.
I recall sitting in a bar somewhere near Canary Wharf in London. I frequented the bar, because the bar lady was my type, and her wild hair and the black sea through shirts she used to wear were perfection on skin. That, and her arms were bruised, and I was determined to figure out who … More Bruises