The strange incident of my childhood where the clouds marched in pouring rain from celestial urns…

Alone and terrified.

This is about the wind ….

A poem asking that age old question from the mind of a 1980’s teenager.

I woke up tonight and wrote this Horror.

There is a reason that you shouldn’t walk near water during a thunderstorm.

Poem.

Isn’t Life Grand.

To love someone is to take the rough with the smooth.

Thunder,rain,contentment, weather,faire.