trapped in unwritten consuetude of beauty, to impress ogling eyes as if born to be tied in silk nets, intricately designed. “This  fine silk to touch your skin,  so divine” she falls for his words, ignorant in love of his evil mind. her spirit ready to bloom her wings ready to cover the sky bit... Continue Reading →

Masters of the Game

just like cigaretteit all goes up in smokered as emberthe heart burnsetched into the wallsecho screams of my silencefour letter wordschange their coursecelebrations of delighta theatrical geniusunderneath the mulching suffocate what remainsthere are days of unbecomingthere are days of schemingand with all that manipulationyou... I become Masters of the Game

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