formication…

These are the questions every writer asks himself. Without doubt there is no improvement.

Read Between the Minds

i
listen
for
sounds
just beyond
these
invisible doors
wondering
if
anyone
hears my words
i ask myself
are these poems
just
ushered
into
darkholes
where
each
simile
and
metaphor
are pulled
into
fields
of
apathy
from
which
they will never
escape
nor
send
back
signals
of
their survival
it would appear
the
whole
process
is like that
of
faith
belief
beyond
reason
writing
to
cleanse
that
feeling
of
insects
crawling
beneath
society’s
skin

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