Frames were found in his attic,

Pictures of distortion from reality
you see his ghost passing by
and touch the small canvass
hiding in the corner,
with a complaint.

Got a good poem!

Like two fire flies
She and I
Oh the love
Like chocolate
melts in the night
between soft thighs
she melts in my arms
just enough
It feels so right
good like this land
Across her body
running through
American rich soil
in the night
in the night
This is like America
I am coming home.

Silence can be golden and so can sunsets at the beach!


Holding air
Was part of her hair
Waves into the ethers
of space
can not hide
the lurker in the dark
the crevice
something was growing
She made a fist
Rather nice
You said
Sadly
Holding back tears
sad.
Yes.