Streams of consciousness with white water rapids.
Fire heats the night air I sit alone on the ground Waiting for the rain
By Charliy Nashabout a year ago in Poets
The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She wasn’t supposed to be in his room, but she snuck in whenever possible. It was worth it just to take a quick look.
By Charliy Nashabout a year ago in Fiction
The birds all scattered The jay took a seed and left The birds all came back
Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Here on Psi Delta 3 I can hear them constantly. I hear them all day. I hear them all night. I’d probably hear them in my sleep if I slept.
By Charliy Nash2 years ago in Fiction