A long preparation for something that always happens: i.e., death.
A long preparation for something that always happens: i.e., death.
Live. Love. Write.
Words are the only thing left holding me together.
Beautifully Chaotic
Faith+Perseverance + The ability to make your dream a reality!!!
My life is my art, language is my canvas
"At intervals the clang of a strange bell shivered over the onyx city, answered each time by a peal of mystic music made up of horns, viols, and chanting voices." - H.P. Lovecraft, 'The Dreamquest of Unknown Kadath'
A glimpse into the overgrown paths and unchecked wilderness of my mind.
A Social Phobic's Interpretation & Decoration of Poetical Ideas, Messages, Information and Resources.
Thoughts and writings reflecting the poet within and the activist
Welcome back! —CC
Thanks a lot. It’s nice to cross words again.
You bet. I look forward to new b-jams.
My next door neighbor died relatively young about three years ago. When she told me she had cancer, she was quick to add, “Don’t tell me you’re sorry, tell me jokes instead.”
Ooops! I meant to add. She seemed to me prepared.
That’s sad and sweet. And it’s tough to remember, but: death is really another part of life.