Writer, fiction author and occasional musician.
sebreilly.com
Bind our wrists or so you insist to pull us into your inky mist with a limp tentacle that twists back and creeps a track
By Seb Reilly4 years ago in Poets
A soft ripple shifting beside us inside time outside mine creating slides falling downside up and out-lifting slipping seconding
By Seb Reilly7 years ago in Poets
It was a Tuesday when I first noticed them. That morning had been terrible; for the first time in nearly a decade I was running late.
By Seb Reilly7 years ago in Futurism
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