Blurred lines and fuzzy features imitate the objects I know. The fire alarm... is just a beige blur. The carpet... is just a sea of synthetic fibers. And the bedside lamp... is just an incandescent inferno. But in the morning I'm sure they'll be clear.
Author: Ash Ochoa Poetry
You'll figure it out.
Bust 2
Bust
Pulled
I think that by nature we gravitate to those who mirror our emotions. Those of us who are lost and grasping for comfort seem to be drawn to those also desperate for connection... Only to find our own condolences in the reassurance we give.
Relentless
The future always finds us. It finds us without hesitation, effort or probable cause... Tormenting us relentlessly with small pokes and large prods. And there's no way to outrun it or ability to hide... Unless time chooses to take you... Or you decide to die.
Graffiti 4
Graffiti 3
Mission
Labyrinth
Her mind is a labyrinth of what-ifs and have-nots. A self-inflicted maze which spirals... Twists... And constricts... Until finally cascading into what she craves and fears most.
Mission
AO Poetry 
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