She doesn’t need saving


Worry about me later, for barbarians are coming over the hills, carrying long pikes and angry words, searching for reasoning they do not possess. My sleepless nights are a gene inside me, melatonin leached from my skin, my fascination with the moon, my dark monarch taking flight to greet the lamps lighted.

via Wet Feet Are Part Of Life — Poet’s Corner

Errant Satiety

seeking sublime surrender

HemmingPlay

“The lyfe so short, the craft so long to lerne." --Chaucer

yaskhan

Verba volant, scripta manent !

Upashna

In happiness my words I lack, in grief they overflow.

The Wild Heart of Life

Creative Nonfiction & Poetry

- MIKE STEEDEN -

THE DRIVELLINGS OF TWATTERSLEY FROMAGE

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