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Me. Today. Disturbing my poor shoki skills.

Poetry does it for me. I spend half of my internet subscription downloading spoken word poetry. They are investments of some sort. For the future. A minute later. A day later. A year later. A safe house for when I’m depressed. Poetry for me is the way one word, sentence jumps out and crawls into my soul. It is the way I open my heart and entire being to that word/sentence and never let go.
Continue reading “Comfort the Disturbed. Disturb the Comfortable”

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