In my mind's unkempt places of metaphors and stereophones before brushing my teeth with the silence of time getting louder turning the night out as I sleep whispering to a quilt beast walking quieter than my feet as it fades to a powder with a length of my skein bunting a cross-stitching floss went hunting from the Sandman's daunting with the silence of time getting louder

In correspondence with nature's backdrop a step away from the land of eternal dreams from the eye of salvation and azure blue sky listening to the whispering chair transporting an imagination of magical places unforgettable of oaken sails and falling leaves breathing

The king and the castle the castle and the king he takes a lovely queen soon they become three. A dragon several years later comes upon the scene scorching the castle grounds a beautiful young princess oh, so lovely he has found. He takes her far, far away to his lair where she must stay and he asks her for a kiss she doesn't turn away. She gives him one right on the lips a prince he becomes hurray! They live happily ever...

Love is pain. It burns everything in its path until it is all you can see and all you can feel. Love breaks hearts and destroys souls. It crushes them into fine powder until tears are all that are left. Love is feeling everything and nothing all at once. It can send you soaring one moment and drop you into a dark void of despair the next. Love is putting the other person’s happiness before your own. It means doing what is...

...a thousand murmurs whispering once upon a given to seek a kiss from the mannequin's shadow dwarfing the twilight as I dream listening to the shrinking heart through the windows cellophane in shades of stippling souvenirs for this, I shall remain in depths of light and dark twirling on the page skipping through the shadows peeking into the lover light waiting for a kiss shrinking into night

...it's my Beetlejuice and not your karaoke dancing with a shadow and memories with whimsical pistachio green shells listening to the coffee pot's concierge paint mustaches on the ink well's clam sliding on the escalator without a destination it's my Beetlejuice and not your karaoke

The piercing sound of my alarm jolted me awake, and I groggily reached over to silence it. As I slowly emerged from the hazy realm of sleep, the weight of the previous day's events settled upon me. I turned to Jess, her peaceful form still cocooned in the warmth of the blankets, and gently pressed a kiss to her forehead, silently wishing her a day filled with tranquility. Making my way to the kitchen, I dressed for the da...

in remembrance of Quasimodo with the breath of olden's short winds like unseen presence leaves of dead driven like ghosts fleeing bones of men with a little less chin and matted hair but the character of the man is in the treetops

Winter white of my Queen’s desire the hunter of the night has come. She nods to me to let him in, and I do so without want of anything more. Upon his back he carries the skins and bones of coyotes hunted in the shadows of the tall forest pines, while the bear is left to sleep in his den of darkness beneath the stones, roots and grass so closely intertwined. He lays the hides upon the large, smooth stone alter along with t...

Darn it! I just lost a chocolate chip on the floor. It fell right out of the pumpkin chocolate chip cookie; I was so much enjoying. What a bummer! Since that is the best part or shall I say the highlight of it all. Yes, of course, the rest of the cookie is good too. Oh but, when it comes to those sweet little chocolate chips it’s like losing a small treasure. They are so delicious! Such delightful little morsels melting i...

Up, unwilling out of sleep’s sensuous pit. Again, the cry, thin, tentative. Fourth time tonight? Fifth? Cosy-rosy dreams fade. Windows, still winter dark. Time? Late—were there streetlights? Reach blindly for clock on table. Sleep-numb fingers touch but only push. Crash on floor. Shockproof? Hope so—hope so—Heavy eyelids flicker, warm waves drift towards slumber— Again, the cry, louder! So close, the warm, womanly, wifely...

...you are my caviar, pimento of soft red lips, no herring from Norway, just memories, quince of my despondency

My favorite flower has always been a sweet little summer daisy. It has been all my life ever since my mom would buy those pretty little artificial-scented daisy air fresheners with the yellow and white daisy on the plastic or paper packaging. If you’re around my age you know the ones I’m talking about. Everyone used a daisy air freshener back in the 60s and 70s they made the toilet bowl smell so good every time you flushe...

In Cupid's secret queue of the early dawn getting the biscuits quiet as a field mouse pimento red dark roses essence dew drops sweet as ardor listening to silence dripping from the fluorescence memories dressed as ganglions under my skin listening to silence aged of philosophy in Cupid's secret queue of the early dawn getting the biscuits quiet as a field mouse

In the cold dimness, I hear it shriek A single tear runs down my cheek As it approaches, the floorboards groan and creak I hold my breath and dare not to speak I crawl to a corner in which to hide in Sweat binds clothes to my skin My heart pulses, my vision spins Time is running out and I cannot win With each passing moment Bone-quaking footsteps boom from my opponent And with it, a slow eternal torment I recite a silent...