Life is,what your offered. Love,is what you show or given.

I wonder why I can't say what I mean. Why can't I say exactly what I mean? I mean, wouldn't that be a mirror of life, to speak out of the engine of an internal consciousness that is as much

Not sure how a tiny little mask is to keep her safe From contagious people throughout the day That still make her sick, inflict emotional pain By the stares and everything that they say

My mirror is observant Always seeing what I don’t My mirror is curious Begging for another glimpse My mirror shows no facades or masks alike My mirror is more honest than a watery reflection

Watching your soul hang on a clothes line Drenched in an end Lays there sloppy and soaked with tears What once was strong, sags Colorless fluids of life water the dirt below Seeds into weeds

It's that time of year, again...

red dress park bench competition entree.

A screenplay thriller about two friends meeting up after many years apart