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 …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.
Take a bite, ’tis alright. We have boar, we have mutton, and goose.
Make it big with a swig of this velvety gentleman’s wine.
Be remiss (pass the cheese). The world does not care; that’s a ruse.
Please, forget, never fret. Want no more’n let go. On to dine!
Oh, yes. Miss Fortuna’s banquet will treat you just fine.
Smoke, billowing from red-hot coals. A world held together by fastenings of our own design. The smithy churns out diamond-sharp blades that cut and sever, but also bind.