Ghandi on Fire
Catacombs of fear
Of self denial
Caged soul
On fire
Frozen in the flames
Of mental mutilations
Still born words
Turning to ashes
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See AllYou needed at least 3 to really stay alive, he said. Broken glass was perfect in its razor blade geometry A jagged champagne flute sliced the skin at the bar The ravers ran as roaches do at the flick
The garbage we tell ourselves. The mindreading. The self-inflicted verbal lashes to our naked backs. We are the very best at castigating ourselves. When he went so deep inside that he could not get ou
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