WD 204 “Nightshade”

A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth. Nightshade  I’m wavering As the cool night air spreads from my fingertips  Goodnight sounds like good-riddance As my body is riddled with strange waves of paralysis  The dark is so still that it makes sounds  Like harsh knocking on the front door (Did I lock it?)Continue reading “WD 204 “Nightshade””

WD 111 “Mist-Taking”

Prose from the journal of The Guardian Fog. Perish the thought of future glories, dreams of self denial. The streets are empty at this time of night, so what’s the purpose of interpersonal reflection, though I am—reflected in four separate puddles of fresh water. Jackson is a ghost town, a fake city built to defyContinue reading “WD 111 “Mist-Taking””