The Bridge
Strange how a thing so small could hold the hopes of so many. He stared at the small shape, the
Writer
Strange how a thing so small could hold the hopes of so many. He stared at the small shape, the
I’ve been doing a lot of work on scripts and screenplays and novels lately, so the creative juices are a
His mother used to tell him graveyards were no place for a little boy. His mother told him many lies.
Loneliness can become a physical thing, a person that sits beside you on the bus when no one else will.
It’s a special day. You’ve dressed me up in my very best coat, a sweater, one long sleeved shirt, one
I clench my fingers and fight the urge to take your own in mine. Last night you slept with one
Haa-ppy Biiirth-daaaay to meeeeeeeee, Haa-ppy Biiirth-daaaay to meeeeeeeee, Haa-ppy Biiirth-daaaaaaaaaaaay deaughg oh god a bear! A BEEEEAAAAARRRRRRR!!!! Image courtesy
At night I believe in ghosts. In daylight they would be nothing but dresses; pretty sculptures made of an artists’
My man’s coming home today. He’ll come here first. Before he goes to the white house with the picket fence,
I wish he had never written that song. Or I wish that my mother hadn’t been quite so devout –