sometimes, you feel void. #20 poetry july 14, 2016.

FOR IT IS DURING THE UNGODLY HOURS THAT THE GODS WILL FALL DOWN WITH A WEAK EMPIRE.

ARGLE BARGLE WITH A DASH OF HONEY FLAVOURED NOSTALGIA.

AN ABUNDANCE OF GAY AND SPACE METAPHORS.

I TRY TO PUT COSMIC INTERCONNECTEDNESS INTO WORDS.

eating rose jam in the backseat of ur car ©2016, ina

BECAUSE WE ARE MORE THAN THE SUM OF OUR PARTS. [74 POETRY]

i told you not to forget me but you forgot that too. poetry #171 [copyright afterwords 2015]

Everything remembered must be forgotten. The gods are glorious, and then they are not -- history is an ongoing clock. It trudges on.