Miasma

Bad air hangs over Olympia. Be it from the lake, the waterfront, the alleys, uptown, or on the hill where law claims capitol. There lives a wraith somewhere. It manifests to infect newbloods with its promise of risk, how it renders silent the cacophonous mist that is each participant in the mysticism and illusion ofContinue reading “Miasma”

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Wasting Away

My bedroom Has clothes Scattered all around Empty glasses of Old water ornament My end table My pillow’s full Of dried tears and Ugly expressions Somewhere, buried, there’s Two bags of junk food Crumpled up and discarded And when I wake up Every morning I choke Back bile Not just for my own sake ForContinue reading “Wasting Away”

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