Author name: james-admin

I have fought my independence in your soul’s marshes, played Sumter and Marion in the fields and pastures of your

Country cold night rain grinds lonely streets into obsidian gems, polishing away time and flaws. Tarred roads and tar babies

I always knew that someday I would be a lover. I could feel it, beating in my blood, throbbing in

In fields of quilted snow, I see two birds exiled from worlds of warmth, ruffling white feathers in white fields

I have grown this summer, somber, into the suits of death. Tailors have chalked my lengthening sleeves as deposition for

Sleep, my child, and let the worries of the world pass you by, for the world starts anew each morning