Like a child he plays.

thoughts

"have you ever been stuck in a day?"

A short poem about October thirtieth.

Poem about a possessed sofa made of animal hides, for the Halloween prompt "hide".

A poem lamenting a tragic, horrific fate... Or is it really as bad as it seems? For Halloween season.

Be careful...don't say you haven't been warned.

-

A poem I wrote after looking at my Tumblr dashboard and seeing the number of posts. At the time I wrote this poem, there were 917 poems posted.

near

literary whispers of the spirit

A name for PZ's disease

tick tick

Someone happens upon the Immune and Patient Zero

encaged

Every day contains a gift. These are some of mine.

Is it more fearful to face a completely deranged person or a person who is kind but secretly deranged? Is it better to not know your insanity? or is it better to be the only sane one?

I wrote this while falling asleep, very stream of consciousness. It feels like a memory.

Recovery is slow, but it's worth it. I didn't know what this was when I wrote it, but I feel truth in it now.

In a sickness-induced trance, PZ feels the need to dance

Inhale my devastation, the dust of my failure, my loss.

As the disease rages, false prophets, fundamentalists, and cult leaders come from the shadows, feeding on the fear and uncertainty

I got the titles mixed up. This comes after "Blood at the Borders"

The UN isn't safe either. This comes after "Discarded Tag"

Sensing an impending threat, the pair flee. This takes place before "water running red."