BabblingTurtle

Wow. It's been 3, no 4 years since i graced this page with whimsical words rhythmically rolling through fanciful fantasy roaming roaringly along ardent and prudent poetry echoing ellequently into the cataclysmic catacombs contained in ever expounding eperiences dwelling deep inside ones self. I am back. Expcet more.

He sat there, unmoving, holding his breath. He was unable to think, unable to move, unable to remember anything. Suddenly his memory hit him. Morning came early today for Joe Burton. He had worked long and hard over the last few months and today was his first day in a meeting after his promotion. He stared blankly at his alarm clock, five in the morning. He had plenty of time. Joe slowly got out of bed, turned on the hall light and closed the bedroom door silently. He didn't want to disturb his fiancé before she had to wake up at six-thirty. He loved that he got the chance to say goodbye to her before he left for work now without distu

He sat there, unmoving, holding his breath. He was unable to think, unable to move, unable to remember anything. Suddenly his memory hit him. Morning came early today for Joe Burton. He had worked long and hard over the last few months and today was his first day in a meeting after his promotion. He stared blankly at his alarm clock, five in the morning. He had plenty of time. Joe slowly got out of bed, turned on the hall light and closed the bedroom door silently. He didn't want to disturb his fiancé before she had to wake up at six-thirty. He loved that he got the chance to say goodbye to her before he left for work now without distu

     He stood there, pulling his hair, wondering what happened. He groaned, frustrated with everything that had happened. He laid down on his bed and hit the sheets. He sat up and grabbed the linens, pulling them as if to rip them in half. His face is twisted with frustration and pain, as he throws the sheets down. He takes a deep breath, sighs and calms down, putting his handover his eyes and rubbing his temples.     "What the hell am I going to do?"     A few hours before, the snow was falling softly over the town, glistening beautifully in the morning sun. Children ran outside to play in the snow and a few snowmen had risen slowly from

     Cinders in a flame. Each loosely stuffed together, cascading upon the loss of their foundation. Smoke dances around the smoldering paper stuffed leaves. The red glow burns deeper into the treated kindling. Fumes reach higher into the black air, leaving a contrast in the sky. The man's pale face looks as if it is being drained as he inhales another deep drag from his flaming death stick. His hair has lost its vibrancy and his eyes have become erratic. His pupils have reached a fine point and his fingers wont stop shaking. He pulls his jacket closer to himself, attempting to hide his nerves in the cold. The paranoid behavior and sweat betr

Who are you but the sunrise on an early morning? Will anything be so sweet as your lips? I find myself smiling knowing that no matter what I do for you, I will always want to do more. Even in a state of melencholy, the warm glow of your face resurects me from my voided grave. You bring me peace, washing me of my pain. Through your eyes, I see the worth my creator gave me. Through mine, I see one who is more perfect then the first snow on a gorgeous winter day, more beautiful then the mountains in front of a pied sunset, more soothing then the most calming day on a breezy beach. When you speak, the voice of an angel penetrates my ears, intregu