Writer, fiction author and occasional musician.
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 Reilly3 years ago in Poets
up and out-lifting
By Seb Reilly6 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