what i really want is to scrawl onto fragile paper. to soak it in my spit and seal it in wax. to wait patiently and wonder if it will reach you on your front step. and if it does, i want to wonder if it flattens or fires you. if you’d like to scrawl onto fragile paper too. seal it with a kiss and patiently wait to see if i ever get it. if my fingers tremble over your words or if my skin splits and bleeds to see what you hold inside yourself. what i want is words slower than computer screens. something tugged on by soil and wind. a wild western adventure with more poetry and just the right amount of sin. what i want is to capture the moments so good we don’t even commit them to memory. the moments conjured by magic they profess and promise to us is long gone. so sweetly soaked in emotion, we must dive into to colors and textures to accurately describe them. what i want is to send you words worthy of the shoe box in the back of your closet, that are only drawn out by the whisp of full moon wine drenched nights.
what i truly, desperately want, is to write for you
if you’d like to read, stay awhile
a little run down for the new and not yet aquainted
This is a space for poetry. That is what you will find here. I’ve decided to
You are welcome and free to download my books to your device. I just ask that you keep them sacred. Sharing only quotes with proper credit. This is my work and it means so much when you value it too.
I will be sharing poetry in this blog, in the emotions tabs and possibly elsewhere inside the membership area. I’ll send little updates to your email when I’m particularly excited. Other than that, this is your wild world to explore too!
there is nothing like a fire sparked in black and white
And these words fucking burn. The thought a petrol onto the decay of this world. A mess of love and hope and fuck yes and fuck you.
Oh and how you’ve set me on fire, with the very notion that you might burn for these words - these worlds - too.