Writings

Fragments of memories past,
& present falls through the page.
A projection in reflection,
& the thoughts begin to take shape.

Drifting are shapes of heart,
& the year of my death.
Resurrection is in my birth,
& the stories never end.

Illusions & desolation is in my head,
The ink never heals, tortured by myself.
An act of salvation to hold me in depth,
Depression in springtime reveals itself.