Our minds are inebriated on thought.
The children aren’t safe when “it” is around.
When the creep comes to town, no home is safe.
I find myself a wicked place, where darkness marked it “home”…
When things are perfect you can recall the infinite memories lost to time.
The asphalt rules everything.
When you slip into a life of the mundane, it often feels as if you can’t escape the shackles of your own making.
With our first Hindi poem, we explore the feelings of wanting to fly while fighting the fear to do so.
To the sun we look so it may banish the darkness within us.
Jack the Ripper strikes again. His blade forever thirsty for blood. Or perhaps, It’s HER blade that craves to end another life?
Through the clouds and the clutter, somewhere high above the world the sun shines bright.