Monday, February 8, 2016


His sits in the clutter
Of his dead end life
A cold realm
Of broken machines

Wishing he had
Someone to call
That would listen
Without any cost

That could tell him why
His investments of love
Only brought him
A bankrupt heart

That’s locked in a box
In a secret place
Whose location he
Can’t quite recall

Richard Schnap

Apology In the mornings when I look Earth is overgrown with exhaustion with a sad insomnia An ocean of plastic undulates a...