My hands are dead,
done with drawing deeds we never did,
and my heart is hardened,
from hearing what it cannot have.
I’m saved by my sanity,
until it leaves,
through the same door she did,
then I’m helpless to myself.
She said I was intelligent,
until I was “insane”.
I’m insane enough to wait my life for her,
and intelligent enough to make it art.
RECENT CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Darling, Desperate, Dismal Girl
Amor, Amor
Always The Mistress, Never The Mrs
RECENT UPCOMING COLLECTION PREVIEWS
“Baby Back There” from Ours
“Window Shop” from Ours
“Beach Walk” from Ours
RECENT BLOGS
Things About Rings
Tis The Season To Be Bad At Wrapping Presents
Lipsticks I Love
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