Lost Love Lust

Tags: poems

• fathom.

  The night. A traffic of minds in the all active highway of the dark. The rich mind sleeps, the poor mind weeps. The painters brush, in a rush. The writers words, no longer a hush. Man and woman’s embrace, no longer disgrace. The leave’s cling and the winds ring. The poet’s rum awaits the morning [...]

• dirty ends.

  You watch the clock, the typical tick scratches the sides of the brain. This thing. This thing called time. A picture frame, the artists you seek to blame. Dark martini, no fucking lime. It is not the loves that you proclaim, but the true creations of disdain. A telephone ring, a partner in crime, the [...]