My words are a direct reflection of what is being played out in my mind. For artistic purpose and dramatic effect I have duct-tapped the "edit" button…
A slow drag blow. a puff of smoke rises. Angel baby halo floats up, up, up disappearing into a vapor mist that hoversover a neighborhood's mystique and gutsy reputation Tommy G flicks his cigaret butt onto the sidewalk. a boy, an era when cool was a pack of Lucky Strikes tucked into the left sleeve …
Another unnecessary App another dollar drops into the billionaire abyss my rational is a lack of sleep too many nightmares love luster screw-ball mistakesand even though I can give advice all holy and righteous my ability to heed my own words is zero to less thanso winner or loser lover or friendfalling between the cracks …
Everyday is a live look 360 degree spin off flash Yesterday, last week, Three weeks and counting The fog is setting A full moon on the rise And in my brain Images begin to fade It's as if the imprint Didn't take hold Didn't etch its initials Three levels deep Scratched the surface, Drew blood, …
1.1.1.1. flashing retro orb lights from the past disco ball spin off and somewhere out there in the abyss of bullshit and reflections simmering off the cuff comments and intentions are flying high touch down no return choices made one on one excised from the heart like cancer from the soul scarred and somewhat tattered …
How far down the rabbit hole dare I go When moment to moment emotions go from Not giving a fuck to loathing Disbelief, numb to heart broken I know what true grief is and this isn't that Death isn't a choice unintentional heartbreak Walking out is a decision intentions are clear This is somewhere between …
Ode to the single woman with a hammer and box cutter Lifting, pushing, slicing, unpacking - duct tape is the enemy A neck and neck tie with the quiet moments That slip between each half assed unfinished ENDLESS task - epitome of hyperbole It's the down side of up awash the shift Daily itinerary and …
White rose petals fall, finger tip pin prick red blood flows under her majesty's blue sky And the sound of a collective heart beat penetrates the soul; a country that has never scratched the surface of the ground it walks; the land it stole A country that doesn't know - what it doesn't know and …
Long walks through New England woods Backyard cemeteries once the rage - Unrecognizable family names; epitaph in stone Cloaked by a ceiling of muted color ...it seems nothing is the same this year *sigh* Orange, red, gold pierced by non-discriminate Rays of sunlight for viewing - pleasure and delight Stone walls randomly appear; comfort zone …
Maybe it was the glimmer of something gentle Coming into view that pushed me to my knees Imagining the touch of a kitten's paw on my cheek No rosary falling to the floor Dust collecting beads hanging from my bedpost ...shifting gears from sensation to visual Or maybe the sighting of a shooting star that …
Trilby Yates 