Considering the mess that is present day, and wondering if we have slipped timelines.

A frozen farm claims it’s residents forever.

What words express the hitchhikers fear?

Our little black cat Boris got himself in a pickle, and the emotions felt at the Vet were noteworthy.

Writing keeps me sane against the fury of being a human.

Sometimes I feel the colour of a flower is worth immersing myself in.

Anxiety affects all of us in different ways.

Poetry is not dead, but capitalism is on it’s way.

Where else can I share these words that burn me up inside?

Sometimes what I write doesn’t make sense and sometimes it does. Can you relate?

Rage against the dying of the light.