A heart of glass within a wall of stone;
I offer the sledge hammer freely.
Deconstruction.
Each stone is regrown from my tears.
12/02/09
So many thoughts, so little time.
But are they worth writing down?
By the time I pick up a pen, they are barely a memory.
Feelings are fleeting, changing like ocean waves.
To write them is futile.
Ideas are nice, but are any of mine original?
I don’t believe in beliefs today.
2/14/11
A hopeless romantic,
I fall in love each day.
Alas, I am left heartsick…
and drink the pain away.
2/5/11
Sowing Crafty Seeds 