Darkness and Dirty Diners and the Midnight Host Serving Up Death as the Poetry Weeps Into Its Day Old Coffee, Cold as a Corpse These dense and hollow bones and bland flesh that you’ve gifted me are as empty as the silence within words without teeth, and limp as the thin blue veins sucked…
Three Words
fall like delicate drops of blood from the raging wounds that corrupt as they soothe; A calming yet never tamed is the wild heart though caged in the screaming whispers of a shivering warmth for the lonely companionship of the comfortably disturbed always looking for that exit in the dark where love comes as a…
The Language of Poetry and Dreams
Voices scream out from the fog of sleep into the conscious whisper of dreams waking silences of the heart speaking forgotten truths from the depths of those far away places within…… ©Debbie Berk
