Joseph Batte

We have been here before, surroundings are familiar. They are crashing flicks of love into pieces. We all know, love is a rugged series of crafty waves, meant to provide calmness. But, but, it resorts to butchering anything alive. Pour yourself a hot cup of water from the Mediterranean, mix in dead dried leaves or seeds, quenching your lust, and enjoy Pickles of Love, a series of Darkened Poems of Passion, sprinkled with afflicted emotions.