The malabsorption of fear renders the intestines nauseous and liquefied with sickness. It must not be ingested and given a chance to spread and metastasize; it must be wholly spit out and rejected. If swallowed, it must be immediately purged from the stomach, heaved out with extreme prejudice and burned in blue fire. But when the table is set, will we eat of the portions of fear, lies, illusions, and fast made conclusions, or will we reject the poisonous banquet?

The sweet fruit of clarity and the now reality longs to be eaten, broken down, and used as nourishment for the system.

The caustic ulcers of contagion bleed, heal and bleed again, in the interim.

Expressions of the Heart

Beyond vague words that render nothing.
Surpassing all that is shallow and meaningless.
Leaving behind the superficial and insubstantial. 
Cleaving to the essential and the perpetual.
Pouring out the essence of the soul
And bearing in raw reality what is and what is hoped for.
Giving of one’s self in fearless devotion.
The coming together of the deeply hurt and scarred
Who find each other in sacred destiny; 
The light that is in us that heals all pain with a kiss.
Before you go to sleep my love, allow me to tell you this:

I love you.


Written in Fire

Our forewords are inscribed in blood. Chapters of anguish are effortlessly written. Pens of fire highlight the darkness that can’t be seen by the naked eye. Our records of torment and suffering and pain are intricately layered as the pages are turned. Footnotes take hold of the reader and guide with harrowing precision. See where we walked in laborious breaths clutching tight our heavy crosses; hear the incessant wailing of those who hope for more and want to live, but for so long have only existed but yet endure. Witness the pungent scent of hopelessness, despair, and misery. Read with focused intent, not fast; feel the texture of the paper and turn the pages slowly. With every letter and with every word step into rugged boots and hard worn shoes; take the journey. Stretch your arms North, for Polaris is still the star of our or salvation; we are sufferers in blood and in bonds, we send heaven our voice letters and ask for the angels to break our fetters. Some pages may be blank but tears that fall on paper narrate the chapter. The downtrodden, the anguished, the mute, the outcast and long languished are given voice through the pages to record and tell of their devastation and long sadness; diligently search the index and reread certain passages to gain more insight and to interpret the book in its fullness. Run your hands over the leather binding and admire the gold leaf engraving but be mindful to retain poignant paragraphs that are well worth retaining. We cry out between the lines. Our final chapters are yet to be written.

I Dreamt of Love

Though I resist I am enthralled with your beauty,
Your femininity, and the way you move gracefully;
But you belong to another,
And daily by my own heart I am slain viciously. 
My dreams of kissing you are both torment and fantasy.
You are a precious stone, a diamond, namely.
I have fallen in love with you; 

In your presence do my eyes betray me?