VPN - Poem
I will move away and you’ll continue to live in the past, presently You’ll be reminded of me, a sound, a...
Otis: Requiem in Dmin.
There lives an experienced, aged Buck. An artist, a poet, a last of his kind lost to his mind. A calling of rest soon enveloping leads to trepidations of unfulfillment and mediocre routines. Between tangles of a finished bottle and a cigarette burning...
Hum.
In deep states of consciousness, buried between periods of cycles. I had become a tool of psychological construct. Where weight was of nothing—if it could be anything—in fact nothing at all. Distant light from the freeway painted part of...