Everything changes
But everything
Stays the same
righteousgeek
Writer of things.
She lends plainness and comfort
In block letters.
The store calls her hot food
Which is a thing if you have never had
A family banquet
is zero
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As the wetness in my mouth dries up
and the blood in my arms returns to the earth
under the weight of wood and cardboard,
I remain American.
The visitors take their place. He takes his and speaks of how the townsfolk of Lucrest Hill got together to discuss matters of grave importance.
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fight a war
play a game
give your bones to her
and rot
Nothing left We all remember. We remember what is no more. It began when we started acting funny. Us and them. Them first. On a hot awakening of unnatural dry winds and eerie bubbles of silence (or a cold one, elsewhere, but still eerie and …
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You, friend of popcorn, soda, and TV dinners, feel quite confident that your neck will not be the one bitten by the vampire’s fangs by the time the credits roll.
Read more →Thief. You steal into the supple night
To pick and plunder. Shadows split,
Perhaps you deal in your own light.
Rune or sortilege? That is it!
I dream. Must be, for now the bland,
Prostrated body commands no vigil,
Allows the treacherous, craven hand
To rip a heart out by dark sigil.
Mine! Pitted, jet like eyes of raven
Is now this chest that aches, so dry.
She has the beat with her, my fair maiden.
I let her in to live. Now I die.
He visited every day, that young fella. He would sit on the birch stump by the fence and watch in silence how the recessive man brushed and carved the wood.
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