Gone

I have a secret
Place where I can hide and write.
There I find myself.

Choices

“Coffee, tea, or me?”
What the fucking rant is that?
You—and nothing else!

Soul Quakes

I have watched Death pass
Over me much too confused
I was not the one.

Pulse

Time is slowing down
Even as I here now write.
Zen is compression.

The Whisper

Science screams the truth.
I accept that, then wonder:
What still lies beyond.