Poetry for the terminally broken hearts. An ongoing ramble of amateur short poems and prose that have never left the beat up journal from the bottom of my junk drawer. This is my attempt of growing my poetic fruit in the heartless soil in the desert of my mind. It entails all the confessions that come along with heart break and filling the void. *Constructive criticism is very much appreciated!*

Even the Morning Star fell from the Heavens. This growing collection endeavors the human experience, at the level of the damned and divine. Offering the dichotomic sanctity of worship and deceit, it follows the manifestation that drove kingdoms to war, and man to his grave.