human condition
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Sleepless, Under eye circled gruffness. Emotions unconfessed Misdirected hurt suppressed. The darkness I’ve seen in men. The shadow leads, Anger feeds Hard, fast breathing Strained neck seething. The sorrow I’ve seen in men. Whether joy or pain, The intensity is the same, Withheld when awake, But the snore, a roar. I mistake the darkness of…
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Just typing the word desperate makes me feel uneasy. It’s a word I am wholly uncomfortable with because I do not identify myself that way. I’m capable, self-sufficient and charming. Who would want to identify themselves as feeling anything like desperation? (Just ask Teri Hatcher or Eva Longoria.) But yet, we all hold a kernel…
Let It Bespoken 