Memory

You think the danger has passed You think you're in the clear. But he comes silently,  stalkingly, With the stealth of the night And when he comes, There can be nothing But to give in and be ravaged By the Power of a Memory.

Sometimes

Departing from my usual style of writing, which is to basically make everything a spectacle, this was written when I was in a somewhat forlorn place, maybe a year ago.  Sometimes, you wonder if all poetry and love songs aren't just grossly exaggerating the majesty of Love. But now you are barely at the base of …