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Being Human poetry


I recently learned of a game called yes. Laughter became more available than conversation. There was often an itch before this invitation presented itself. A nagging burden of the addiction …

Being Human poetry


Breath softens where rock meets sky. Where the clouds become generous prompts for an acceptance of impermanence. Temperate air on skin and the sun’s plenty, can illicit a slight dissipation …

Being Human poetry


Tearing at your own flesh will make blood. Attempting inhibition often creates eruptions. Occasionally it’s a restraint of wild woman anger, but most often a deluge of tears. * Watcher …