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Literature
Nocte
Hiding from the beast,
From tree to tree,
Running in the dark,
I tell myself such things,
Slow- so it won't find you,
Breath.
These fires have scorched far and wide,
Leaving the scent of my former cinders to linger in my head,
Like some bad bender,
Warped memories encircling grey,
The ground is made of shattered glass,
Broken dreams.
No lilies remain,
To any kingdom I run,
In mirrors of liquid glass,
Surrealist battles are won,
And like fear,
The spider crawled from my mouth.
They are sedating everything,
Brush pixilated,
Focus changing,
Leaving me to run in the dark,
Caught in the eye of the storm,
Hiding in the calm.
Literature
Prologue - I
“The greatest of risks to be undertaken by something no smaller than a pin.” Solomon muses, squinting at the red pin, the needle pinched between his fingers. Circular, small, almost missed by the untrained eye. Then again, it is a bright candy-apple red.
One would have to be blind to miss it.
“Why did we not make earrings? Those are near the face and all.” The Darkrai looks over to his assistant, hoping for an answer of some sort. None is offered up to him.
He takes another look at those gathered by the square table in the kitchenette. A common apartment, with two bedrooms and a large common area beside the place wh
Literature
Inferno.
When I felt pain.
The Ink was free.
When I was on fire.
The ink was free.
When I was empty.
The ink was free.
I feel empty.
I feel pain.
But my fire has left me.
I reside in my own inferno.
Searching for my fire.
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Comments1
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Hehe, I hope presidents and prime ministers don't think this way.