Tags » Deimos

Δεμος Talks Blood

Blood’s the cost. Sponges soaked. It’s slow. And woodchips saturated and swept into gray plastic bins. Percival licking his wounds in the infirmary, the snitch mixed with the floor. 202 more words

Alt Lit

Deimos and Phobos

I lie awake in the night,
scratching and clawing at my skin.
Hoping if I peel the layers right,
I can shed the hell within. 130 more words

Poetry

A Cadet Critiques Me the Prophet and Then Sleeps to a Brawl

Tom’s probably the best prophet of this or any other generation, and he’s got a heart as big as the grand canyon, but this isn’t working. 304 more words

Alt Lit