II Ripples in a forgotten stream only reach the mind in dreams

Kneeling down she turned him over and let his back sink down into the muck, watching as watery pupils traveled over her face and froth-flecked lips formed small silent sputters. It was him, every year had left deep marks beneath the dirt on his face, but it was him. ( Read more... )

I        True darkness is when the last star burns brightest

“This’ll be the last time you are in my place” the stocky barkeep glared and spat, “worthless cur”

The thin man tried a clumsy swing that was easily dodged and found himself grabbed up by the shoddy waistcoat.  The sound of ripping fabric was muffled by foot scuffs in the ( Read more... )

here I am, home sweet home
i will make a place for my head here
on this
blank
page...