your voice he shouted i want my voice to be heard i want my voice to be heard she countered stop whispering into the trees the leaves swallow your words stop shouting stop whispering you know how to have your voice
dream of me won’t you dream of me when your eyes close when you go to that place that no one knows where reality changes and silent slumber begins won’t you dream of me out of memories of days we spent seeking shelter from sudden storms laying naked
there is a storm there is a storm a raging evolving developing off shore rising from the sea meeting the sky as far as one’s eyes can perceive there is a storm a raging it’s magnitude immense the anger is not from the heavens yet it feels
random act it was a random act one detached from thought one that should standout one that many would shy from criticize declare insane close eyes or just plainly walk away it was a random act nothing attached nothing asked for in return a
Jewish Drama Queen actually that’s my grandmother a photo from the 1920’s she was a Ziegfeld girl that was way before your time before mine too they were famous you know at least that is what i was told a dance troupe and i understand nudity was part of
William Tell mom told me to practice everyday at 5:00 after homework before dinner i did but couldn’t she hear the strings didn’t sing they whined in pain as if being tortured i was how could i explain i’d be no better with any bow
