I am a teacher. I update often. All names have been changed to protect the innocent (and guilty). As always, Art, Poems, Songs, Secrets.

i'm not one to sever stains of emotional blood and guts and hang that out for public display. hence what one may witness between words and phrases out here resembles nothing even closely comparable to "a journal" ... just visions. stamped visions smelling of sickly sweet damp roses in a breeze. random rainsongs. reminiscence of gain. recollections of pain. stacked and grated and adorned for "aesthetic appeal" ........ enjoy ...........

My last profile was prolific, arrogant, probably irritating. I can't imagine what I could put here to make you interested in my stuff. Read and comment if you want. No big one way or another.

It is a curious matter of observation and inquiry whether love and hate be not the same at the bottom. -Oscar Wilde

When I finally have something to show for myself I'll give it to you on a golden platter. You'll step back with a small gasp and big smile, a limp hand flapped over your chest as if to fan the flames in your heart. You'll squeal "oh! for me?" and I'll nod so vigorously my head will break free from the hinge of my neck, fall and splatter at your feet. Then you'll see that inside, it was empty, all that'll come out is candy, scattered in the street for all the sticky children to eat. I think, breathe, and speak in scribbles; I'm a master of the art of nonsense.