Below each sad wave
a frigid touch pulls deeper
until the light dies.
About the Creator
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More stories from Russel Porosky and writers in Poets and other communities.
Kellek's Aria
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. I'll find out for sure in about thirty seconds if I don't get out of these cuffs. It's too bad these are the newer style with the wrist field grip, otherwise I could just dislocate a thumb and get one hand free. Fat chance of that working as long as the batteries last - which will be a lot longer than the few seconds I have left.
By Russel Porosky3 years ago in Fiction
Affection and Healing for Yourself
During the night of the last quarter moon, I gathered my ritual supplies. I carefully handled the chunk of black tourmaline that would protect me from your overall negative and narcissistic energy. I carefully walked the house with my stick of selenite in hand, asking the universe to cleanse our working space.
By Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️7 days ago in Fiction
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