andrew mitchell > Writing | WritersCafe.org | The Online Writing Community

The thought that has lost it’s face has no value amongst thieves for the truth Is revealed.

The ink in the well ripples by heartstrings pulled the tsunami washes through bereaved thoughts where the ink runs a pen trembles all is lo..

Sometimes it’s got to rain and then the sun dries.

Every thought has its moment as every moment has its thoughts.

On the edge of a thought a scream echoes through the abyss, a stone shimmers on the ripples of discontentment as today’s talk becomes t..

In the house of cards play was going well until someone shouted. “All hands on deck!” And now for the hot shoe shuffle.

I go to work to live only to retire and die.

Memories are mirrors reflecting you.

In the haunted theatre of mind moments seated watch time on stage pass by, before the final curtain. On standing memories applaud in remembra..

In the bowels of the mind withered, desiccated thoughts litter the floor undigested amongst the memories lying in a state of decay.