Writing and acting for your "pleasure"

Blog posts whenever I'M in the mood

Other fun things

Ghost Story

 I feel as though I am a ghastly ghost
Just hovering so slight above the earth
With guts that dangle down, that scarred me most;
But was I worth the pain of giving birth?
A new reflection in the mirror glass,
Uncomfortable in what my face now lacks,
The eyes are sunken, mouth which drips a gas
Of noxious fume that conjures up some wracks.
No voice no more, or not my own at least,
The breath of better men sustain this lung,
But what is me will never be released,
No song for those who never really sung.
So like the silent incorporeal,
The only voice at my memorial

Sonnet for Sleep

The Precipice of Possibilities