Dark Bulb

I had forgotten the warmth of grace and the lifting glee from smiles of recognition if I can smile through rancid hurt my glow can shine perhaps to light a beacon for those who would place me on a stoic pedestal with combed hair face like freshly ironed clothes I still feel like the eternal hermit

menoh

I am a button pusher. I stir up trouble. It is what I do. I live in the borders between light and dark. I can write about beautiful things, and joy and love, but I find I am more creative when i write about the dark. I love to hold a mirror up to the...

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