Writing Through

It's not pleasant, where I start. In fact I don't want to start because of the stench and the rot and the sameness of words left to die, mirrors everywhere and in them, my heart. I know everything there is to know about this room there are no more secrets there hasn't been for some … Continue reading Writing Through

The Greatest of all, The Journey

Heads whip, there's so much to take in. Eyes wide, I cannot miss anything. Plains and caves and oceans and secret paths and hidden clearings in deep woods. Fully carved water routes through fields, invisible, impossible with cliffs for ants and Mississippi like for the waterbug. Monuments and islands carved by people and time, both … Continue reading The Greatest of all, The Journey