Poems

In the soft morning light where dreams linger on, A tale of dawn pleasures unfolds in the early dawn. Lips suckling tender nipples, in a dance of wild delight, In the rhythm of their passion, they ignite the fucking night.Pre-: Fingers teasing every peak, exploring every sacred spot, Creing waves of pleasure, in the he […]

Craft Beer TwelveI started with the session ale at two in the afternoon,the one with the citrus notes that always fills the room,by four I moved to the double IPA, the heavy hitter,the one that coats the tongue and makes the evening glitter,the taproom’s got forty taps and I’ve made a plan,to work my way

Dawn finds us tangled in dew, skin to skin in the thick of the trees,The hush is a shroud and the grove is a cage, but you beg for more and I aim to please,Your hair wet with sweat, back arched to the sky, nails in my shoulders, thighs tight at my waist,I press you

Clocked Out, Still Carrying Chains [Wraith]Labor Day drags in on rubber legs and lukewarm light, the air thick with grill smoke, cut grass, and cheap beer breath hanging over alleys like a tired parade that forgot why it formed,and every front porch warrior in a folding chair swears this one long weekend is salvation, one

Common PAR The Palette Knife of TimeThe palette knife of time paints not with colors bright,But with shades of decay and the dimming of light.It scrapes across the canvas of our days,Blurring once sharp memories in its relentless haze.With each sweep, it carves the lines deeper into skin,A chronicle of battles lost and won, of

City at the Stroke of TwelveMidnight strikes like a chord across the skyline,City breathes in beats of neon and the moon’s shine.Skyscrapers stand as sentinels in the sleepless watch,While shadows dance in the alleys with a whiskey scotch.Streetlights flicker, a semaphore in the simmering dark,Each pulse a painting on the canvas of the urban park.Taxis

City the Stroke of TwelveMidnight strikes like a chord across the skyline,City brehes in bes of neon and the moons shine.Skyscrapers stand as sentinels in the sleepless watch,While shadows dance in the alleys with a whiskey scotch.Streetlights flicker, a semaphore in the simmering dark,Each pulse a painting on the canvas of the urban park.Taxis trail

Clock out?Nah, time’s a flat circle.The work doesn’t stop,just shifts shape,turning into bills,broken promises,and existential dreadwith a side of Netflix.But yeah,I’m absolutely thrilled,grateful to be here,dancing on this hamster wheelwith all the otherensoiastic corpses.Since life’s a gift,right?And I’m just unwrapping itone disappointmentat a time.Don’t leave your purse on the floorDon’t Leave Your Purse on the

Broken Glass Sings at DawnNight claws at the throat of this city—fingernails painted with exhaust, with spit, with all the black promises the dark makes and never intends to keep,I ride shotgun with regret, wide-eyed, teeth-grinding, a ghost at the wheel and adrenaline rattling my ribs like loose change in a beggar’s cup,Headlights are bone-white

Verse 1Rushing through the corridors, I’m always late,The world’s spinning faster, it’s a twisted fate.I hear the ticking of the clock, it’s calling me,But I can’t slow down, gotta be where I’m supposed to be.Every second slips away, like sand through my hands,But I keep running, trying to meet the demands.I’m the one who’s always