P     o     e     t     r     y      . . .  

Poetry

Poetry

Sick

ill to my stomach

    I feel

everything swimming- reeling

    I hear

the empty hallway stillness & fear

    I see

a why for every answer

    I taste

of your disaster

    I smell

you coming faster

    I touch

your alabaster

    legs

no- never mind-

    I think

you've left me  

like summer leaves a tree behind.

 

by Justin Olmanson

P     r     o     g     r     e     s     s     i     o     n 

read at your own risk...

discovered, lost and squandered

death

various people

prayers, hymns and questions

W H     o     m     e