rhythm and rain

wistful we are with trembling hands, and porous are our defenses against nature’s shower it sweeps in rhythms a mixture of old with new a touch of words, it evaporates petrichor, these shared remains and someday in a moment’s hesitation, it will begin all over again.          

Fire

there was angst fuming from trashed possessions but now I create flames with this restless heart once fooled, now awakened.

Skin

simply offerings to a society and self

craving visual perfection