Jester

Not exactly sure how to delete this.

I wrote this simple poem when I was a bit younger when I heard that there could be a military draft for the War in Iraq. Although I doubt it ...

Tears are of an international language. They mean the same thing, whether they are streaming down the faces of Africa, pit-patting on the porches of America, or saturating the tissues ...

12:57. My eyes were more fixed to the time on my car’s clock than on the actual road. One might call that dangerous, but anyone in my predicament would understand. ...

As I slide the gloves off my hands, the winter chill crawls between my fingers and into my veins. I suppose it doesn’t feel better than leaving them warm and ...