My face isn't carved in a mountain. I've never been struck by lightning. I've never saved a crying baby from a burning house fire nor have I over come my misfortunes in life to acquire a name for myself. I consider myself a writer although all I've written is only pieces of torn limbs of my distraught existence. Everything is a poem to me, it's my shorthand.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Friday, December 4, 2015
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Wednesday, November 18, 2015
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Tuesday, October 13, 2015
Monday, October 12, 2015
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Monday, October 5, 2015