wystswolf

Happiness isn't happiness.

We interrupt our regularly schedule whine and moan

Alms for the poor, alms for the poet.

new monograph

It's the silence which gets us in the end.

Save, we pray!

Even monsters long to be touched.

Dual furnaces where the dancer stokes his own doom.

For the heart is an organ of fire, stellar power, truth, beauty, and love.

Ripped from the pages of imagination to live as a fabricated memory.