A
soft
ripple
shifting
beside us
inside time
outside mine
creating slides
falling downside
up and out-lifting
slipping seconding
minutely bleed fine
slowing soft sheens
gradually reverses
unrehearsed lines
drifting internal
infernal dying
denying sift
and scour
last hour
bending
curving
stirring
slurring
wording
returning
a parabolic
parasite light
night flies wait
in-satiate blurring
until suddenly cuts.
About the Creator
Seb Reilly
Writer, fiction author and occasional musician.
Keep reading
More stories from Seb Reilly and writers in Poets and other communities.
Last Days
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. It was me, but there was something warped, and that was not me. I narrow my eyes and peer into the narrowing eyes of my deformed reflection. I was off, and while I could see it in my reflection, no one else could see it. At least no one acknowledges it. Getting out of bed has become a chore. A chore I hate. After fifteen to twenty minutes of lying awake, staring at the ceiling and wishing I hadn't woken up, I finally shift to the side of the bed, legs dangling down the four foot high drop to the floor.
By Colt Henderson6 days ago in Horror
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.