I'm waiting for the words to mean something for the poetry to characterize the experiences which mere thoughts cannot explain. I am waiting for these words to transport my brain into another plane, where things start to make sense, or a place where, at least, I can watch chaos from a distance.
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War
In the midst of the rubble we must pick up our chins win sideways or not at all find the beauty in the butterfly wing soar on the ocean with...
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Soaking up the rain and whipping spit of the waves, as he stood next to the ocean of my memory, a fire hydrant in a red windbreaker, glaring...
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"Well...that was dramatic." I didn't know what he meant until I saw the ink spilled everywhere and the moths in her hair like ...