B is for Ghost Chair

A ghost chair haunts my hours

And devours my memory.

I hoped that She and I would become WE.

Wrapped in each other’s skin.

Like Sunday

Sunday, when the air grew still around us

As she

Breathed life

Into my being

And I became deeply religious

Every fibre thanked the Father that She and I were here

Crouched hungrily on a green chair

The very same that haunts my hours

One

Two years later

The familiar I follow

But it will not lead me back to her

December 25, 2010

A Ghost Chair

Three Text Maximum

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B is for Loving Boys

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W.A.T. PRESENTS: Till The Tank Runs Dry

A few shots on the road. Stock video. Free library music. And a narration by Ayodhya Ouditt. Here's a short piece of something, "Till The Tank Runs Dry" [because with no budget comes great responsibility]. Take it in. Be Well. #wearetracy #wearetracyfilms

B is for Stealing

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