Poem: Songs Never to be Heard Again

Sing me to sleep
A sweet lullaby
About the prince
And the princess
Who never left

Poem: What’s the Point

From the inside out
I can feel the decay
Setting in my veins
Watching the walls
Melting before my eyes
I wonder what it’s all for

Short Story: Redemption

Sitting on the bridge overlooking the bay I wait.

I know death is coming for me. Again.

A lifetime ago, literally one lifetime ago as of two minutes ago, I was a street magician.

Or a huckster.

It depended on your disposition or my needs. I worked and lived on the street for as long as I could remember. Since I started out as a kid, gainful employment wasn’t an option, and after a trip to juvie and some unpleasant experiences there, I realized a life of crime wasn’t for me either.