Join For Free!
Over 90 days ago


View all


What's real?

Yesterday I was optimistic as the sun, broad as the sky, impish as the morning mist. Now I bleed, slowly, like a finger through my letterbox. Today,the sky-hooks are embedded in my fllesh again, and I am dead inside.


The future is bleak.

The rainwhich beatsupon the glasspoints thewayto poisongas. The sunwhichwarms the stagnant poolgoes down atduskand leaves itcool. The cloudsmushroomingoverheadtell us there’smuch more todread. The lightning strokewhich tears theskycarries deathto low and...