On Waking
I wish that at eight
It wasn't too late
For the poetry to rise to the top
Crumpled Words
Her tears held the page in place
A torrent of emotion obscured its face,
In words smeared and blurred
Their meaning lost.
The page was
Torn,
Mangled,
Tossed
Into the space of memory.
Dark Dreams
"Come bring me your dark dreams and I will make them mine ... "
descent
to the summit i soar and my wings
are clipped
i fall thrashing and spinning.
inevitable defeat.
Be Careful …
Be careful what you wish for
For it could soon be yours
And once you have it in your hand
You may not want it anymore.