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the dots are slowly disconnecting I can see it coming now the register jams more often did I do that and why...or how? 'yes, you told me that remember...? but it's okay everything is fine' the signs are now clear this creeping fear the foggy mist of my decline the familiar sound of the 2 o'clock train snaps me out of my hazy state I move to the...

**The Heart of a Tempest** A storm within, a raging, endless sea, Where waves of anger crash eternally. A heart of stone, a soul of iron cast, Forever bound to this tempest, forever fast. The pain, a viper, gnawing at his core, Leaving wounds that fester, evermore. Rage, a wildfire, burning fierce and bright, Consuming reason, plunging him in...

They call her a voice of brown pain, But we’ve heard louder cries, from fields soaked in sacrifice, from mothers who buried sons, not metaphors. They sold us short, for lowercase lines and over-capitalized lies— as if formatting could mask the absence of truth. She speaks of lands she never walked, names wounds she never bore, calls for borders...

The Iron Cage** Within a prison built of bone and sinew, He dwells, a captive, where no sun shines in. His flesh, a battlefield where armies clash, And joints, once fluid, now are bound in ash. Psoriasis, a crimson, crawling tide, Leaves burning trails where life should freely glide. Arthritis, with its gnawing, twisting grip, Has stolen...

You may not be able to see me, but that does not mean I am no longer here. You may not be able to touch me, but that does not mean I am gone forever. The physical world may know me to be dead, but I am, in truth, very much alive – more alive, in fact, than I have ever been, In ways that you do not understand. You think that I am unaware of how...

Goodbye my old friend, You’ve slowed in your old age You should know, your openness and creativity Helped break me from my cage I may be the only one who visits you now But I hope you wake up Some way, some how, If anyone reads this You’re in the right place Please come here often And quicken my friend’s pace Thank you to all who’ve come and...

A thousand miles or three, some distance more; Does it much matter so, or not at all? Each wave that comes a-lapping at her shore Shall whisper softly, echoing a call Of love; a feather 'neath the ocean's roar, Left lingering, to trace the sand so calm As would my fingers gently stroke her palm. More acrostic love-anguish, I'm afraid (same...