"Poets are finished."
- Algorithmic Prophecy.
(AI is coming)
About the Creator
A M Clark
I'm a classical painter. My favourite medium is oil paint, but sometimes I like to use words. Thanks for reading!
He Loved Her...
Can't speak yet she hasn't forgotten how to think Can't feel yet she still knows what is real Cornered she just cowers Tallying the hours until she's free Struggling in darkness to find the key's grace That will relieve her from this suffocating embrace
By Nichole Campbell2 days ago in Poets
Spectating
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford6 days ago in Fiction
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