Moros Keene
Bio
An old soul exploring the world and generally watching it tear itself apart and spiral into insanity.
Stories (2)
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All have culture, so don't dismiss mine because of my color...
People are not going to be pleased with this, but, what if…..someone asked you to think? What if someone asked you to think beyond an easy descriptor, to be conscientious about you use that descriptor, and if need be, take the extra time to learn about someone you don’t know to AVOID using said descriptor?
By Moros Keene5 years ago in The Swamp
Whiskey Dreams of Pixie Dancers
I once saw light flickering through leaves of a tree, a tree not like the others on the mountain, and would swear I saw a dryad dance amongst the branches, who turned into a wren and flitted away. I saw a pale nymph dancing, and she turned into a girl with short hair and whose lips taste of red wine. Rain running sideways like the river it once was, and a mountain basin turn from green, yellow, gold and silver to a world of white, blue and infinity. Through such eyes I see this world, all that I see now merely a thin shade over the layers that came before it.
By Moros Keene7 years ago in Poets
