You lack the capacity to do quite a lot The words that leap from your tongue are never excited Fingers can never truly grip with affirmative notions Who ate away at the stars in your eyes? The love you give yourself is conditional, occasional Bent fears aren’t crippling enough to make you stop Persistence...

People like me aren’t made to be happy Our intentions are purer than most Our smiles as wide as the scars we choose not to parade I’m nothing more than a dark, hollow pit There are times when I think that maybe I’m made to suffer Cry out in agony to a god who...

Imagine you have a dream, one rooted in joy, peace and the feel of home. A dream that reminds you of your childhood; freshly cut grass in the front lawn for football, dancing in the rain before the drops fell too heavily and the look your mother would give you whenever she remembered you...

Morning… I desperately wish I could say it was a good one. You’re laying with your back turned to me and any sign that I might try to hold you is disconnected by the moping groan that fills the sheets. Any attempt at affection is shot down from point-blank range and I’ve run out...