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Escalator
I was due another conference with my conscience, but I was swarmed, swimming in the summer’s bees and the last of my spring dreams, living in August, while April fought for my attention. My conscience, and the priest I paid to guard it had grown impatient, sighing as I locked myself away in my castle,…
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So Close
Our oceans have become puddles, stomped through by your sensible shoes, leapt over, like a lovesick ballerina, who longs to land in God’s good graces, but has been bound to hell by her wicked, wayward heart. The room that watches us is small. The eyes are ever watching, without judgement, without guidance, so I am…
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Sincerely, Jennifer x 