Dream #1

Coarseness grips my limbs, roping hands to feet. The musk of sweaty sulfur burns my sinuses, bringing clarity to the face of calm unhurried justice. Pain heard but not felt by the desperate choking screams as my shoulders fold back like broken wings. Stone hangs from feet, twisting in the air like a pendulum, numbness crawling lung-ward. Hope flies, ensnaring a thousand more bodies between snot-choked tears. Until the rope drops again.

About Tietsu

Someday the words that fill my brain will fill cheap paperback books. Until then, I will collect them here.
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This is where words go

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