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“I feel like I’m caught in a French, Black and White film about a nympho who falls in love with a schizophrenic." Sincere and sentimental, the poems in this book border between spiritually content and harrowing, unrequited devotion. Within the free flowing verses you'll find intricate and honest recollections both delicately simple and intensely passionate.

The whispering started again. I looked down at the corpse. Her mouth was moving. I looked over to Domonic, he was looking down at the girl. "Is she... whispering?" I looked back at the body. I heard the whispering get louder and louder, until it was shouting. The people on stage covered their ears and started crying. I would have too, if I wasn't intrigued by what she was saying. It wasn't at all what the walls were saying. They were screaming ' Death is on his way' what the girl was