My poisoned damask eiderdown embraces keeping a chill from my hot hips. The fire of sacrifice burns me up draws weapons pours hot air on my cracked lips. My chewed and dated sentiments News bulletins blowing dust on my stained face. The abscess of time spent waiting drained by clawing and ripping at lace.
Now that is passionate!!!! I like... I think I will post more as time goes by. And I'll keep reading you. As far as poetry, its like my painting, it is passion that fills me then spills over and must be expressed so I do... but more and more I find in it truths that are bigger than my own truths. I read some of my writings from a few years ago and know them for the first time. That makes me think that maybe someone else might identify or get something out of it if I share. So I will
