An hour sliced off
I know there are still wars outside not just the ones for territory fighting for things that will only ever belong to us for an hour sliced off the lifespans snuffed but the cold wars of the mind, hunger and bonds of blood and in this cocoon I find myself in I sleep a while in…
The birth of Voice.
Bricks loose like pulled teeth, yellow chipped paint with a whole white daisy. Pale sky heaving through caved wooden ribs. Hunched shadows hunting– shadows behind keening walls marred in soot. Whimpering cries, harried shushing silence screams ringing in the ears breath coming out fast–faster, sharp intake, pause– ‘whuu…’ soft whistle blow a humming tune, picked…