Photo Credit: djoel at deviantart.com
The music seeps in,
and you die
a little more
each time.
The beat shakes
your bones,
the pulse
peels away
the layers,
and you’re left with
pulsing,
writhing,
raving
rhythm
slowly killing you
while it breathes
you back to life.
~Patience
TBI Survivor Story
One Hell of an Apprenticeship
He was so ugly that everybody died. The end!
An engineered explosion of erroneous exposition.
...becoming the glory within
composed late at night, from amongst chaos and coffee
Poetry for Girls & Monsters
Fun for the whole asylum!
Darren Hawbrook
Get Your Keys, Grab Your Coat.
A rather droll affair
Shattered long ago...
Understanding someone’s way with words isn’t as simple as you think.
poetry w/teeth
Two old men write poetry, short stories and other things
Where are you John Bender...
My Imagination is the DEVIL on my shoulder
