The Gray Room.


I have a room inside my head which has no doors. The walls are painted gray no windows break their even curve. Within this room,  I hear no good or bad. My senses are reduced to flat and gray and silent. Nothing can touch me. I am safe here.

Secret Gardens.


There’s a secret garden inside the heart, where even in the depths of winter the birds sing. And the flowers unable and unwilling to shade their colours spring forth. The wall around the garden however is strong and tall to find the door takes a special kind of skill the young and wild stumble easily…

I am not the man.


I am not the man the one babylon. I am not the taker of souls we know of old cold like the icy wind I AM NOT HIM. I do not have room in my mind for the kind of thoughts that they possess I am not less than him I do not skim the…

My Reason and Rhyme.


you are the reason you are the rythm and the rhyme you are dawning of days you are so sublime you are the light refracting you are the stopping of time on a friday night you are the whisps of white in a scorching summer sky you are why you are when you are how…