Pitmen worked beneath the skin, their charges primed,
to smash each fortress on each bitter crest.
They’d exhale death upon the hour, and time
the start – the steady boys above would do the rest. 113 more words
6 months, 1 week
"You must suffer me to go my own dark way"
Strangled light accentuates
The pock marked damnation
Of deformed no-man’s land,
Malformed haze devotedly
Pilfers our silent sights,
Stagnant water feeds death
Into the already crumbling… 187 more words
8 months, 2 weeks
Where the rubber hits the road.
Where the submit button sends your post.
Where the streets have a name and where the streets have no name. 59 more words
11 months, 3 weeks