On a crisp November night, We clasped hands down Connolly Street, Almost Christmas, but not quite, Our destination decided by our hearts and feet. What a strange pair we must… Continue reading "A Group of Butterflies"
You medicate with television, The stories in the box claim your life. You medicate with podcasts, How clever they are instead. Your eyes dilated and dull, That's what your gravestone… Continue reading "Medicated"