We suffer many deaths before we are ever put in the ground. None easier than the last. I fear the deaths in-between moments that often go unseen. Until a shovel is needed, I shall be. ...

Blessed To the night that ends before it began. To the evening that will never see the mourning it went to bed for. The door never opened. To the sneeze never... ...

Yes. One with claws. People enter my court, demanding I speak. I would write them 10 words, if it would save me speaking one. My voice is even. Not from practice, but from being blown out. It takes hope to run ones mouth. Something I sorely lack since making it out of childhood. "Why so quiet?" What would I say ...

Lost. Similar to a sneeze that was not forgiven. It stays within me. If only a high-true could wipe away all that it implies. Bless you. ...

Many names have been tattooed across my flesh and yours is the only one that doesn't heal. ...

For all the today's spent thinking about tomorrow. I hope to see you then. ...

Just waiting to be taken off the shelf. All the stories I would freely share, should you just put your hands on me. Chapters of life long lived, lived long ago. Pages of parables poignantly placed for your pleasure. Please take me off the shelf. I have a story I'd like to tell. It starts with the most fascinating person finding an old book... ...

I have been questioning my existence ever since I knew I had one. And while ownership has never been contested. I still question if it's mine. I do not believe in a higher power. So I will not give credit to my existence. Should my fate end in hell, I would request an audience. So that whomever be so bold, can declare authorship. ...

Lips so beautiful and lush, like pillows, not to rest your head, but your dreams. ...

Gaze upon all of the words I have collected over the years. How might I arrange them? So that I may have your acceptance. ...