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.
Monday, October 17, 2016
Sunday, October 2, 2016
Friday, September 30, 2016
Monday, September 26, 2016
Friday, September 23, 2016
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Friday, September 16, 2016
Sunday, September 11, 2016
Saturday, September 3, 2016