A change of scenery might not be the answer after all.

We spent the summer Twisting threads of echo's Into ambient shards of clustering starlight. Throwing our passions, Upon the little gods of this world; As we sought each other's heart,

I could say I love you a million times a day I could say I miss you and please don’t go away I could pledge my life to you and give you gifts of gold

Loves dreams falling like acid rain that scorches all before it, while drowning in this sea of life that holds you tightly bound, feeling the pressure deep inside your heart as the grave is slowly fil

(what’s in a name?)

we are raised and steeped in TRAGEDY, at least we few Yankees by inclination or antiquated disease inclined to take the literary seriously our classrooms ring with the poisoned king

...I write because I don't know what else I can do

A short story about a bus driver and the passengers who ride with him. Based on actual events reported by bus drivers.