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About This Author
 Writing poetry allows me to exercise my imagination and share it with others. I strive to write for the benefit of the reader using carnival fun mirror images of my life's experiences.
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He was a hostage. It cost him dearly but no amount of rage could break the bonds of fear that seared his twisted wrists. He was a blind man. Taught to be kind he couldn't see the light for his mind was a gland wrought with fluid pools of bovine lies. He kept to himself. No one thought of the depth of breath brought on while the world wonders past like a cheesy movie. He loved in secret. He enjoyed his toy in bleak sanctuary and dreamed of the freedom found in smog-filled city streets. He murdered it all and was resurrected into the perfect body of a salacious prospect who wore his chains on the inside. 30 Lines Free Form poem
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