at the dock.

take me away . . .

looking away . . . .

from a purported disturbance

a stairway to nowhere,

and a passage into the darkness

why turning your back,
on a sunny February day . . .

you win some,
and you lose some

waiting to exhale . . .

it's been years

an abandoned stage,

a forgotten existence

it all boils down to:

the fear itself

fifty-five #3,

dark side of the mirage