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The sun hadn't yet risen when John Wheeler's alarm clock buzzed softly, stirring him from a deep sleep. He rolled over, groggy but accustomed to the e..
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People are always at their worst in airports. It’s a distilled version of humanity, squeezed into narrow gates and endless lines. I’m sitt..
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Book 1 of Rythm of Ruin
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They say you die three times,First when the body dies,Second, when your body enters the grave, And third, when your name is spoken for the last time.T..
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In the city's neon glow, secrets buried deep,Whispers of rebellion stir where shadows creep.Blissful smiles hide memories erased,In a world of control..
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Book 1 of The Bliss Chronicles.
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You can have them backThe butterflies wingsyou've clippedon the night standnext to the razor blades andNeedlesThose Black cherry candles flickering th..
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The Cracksin the ceiling are filled with dripping water.The shadow of a man is only as big as those around him.the little dead moth lays at the boy's..
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In a Bar.Alone.Drinking cheap whiskey in some Godforsaken Condemned Bar in the backwoods of no where.Alone.In a Filthy suit with 5 o`clock shadow at 1..
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This once lost poem is about a homeless man I met long ago when I went to New Orleans.
I wrote it years ago, and tucked it away.
Until now.
Enjoy..
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