Unlimited Comfort
Comfort comes in all forms.
Comfort in my loneliness.
Comfort in silence.
Comfort from the morning sun rays slipping through the blinds.
Comfort when the sheets of the bed are soft against my legs
Comfort in my own skin
Comfort in repetition
Comfort in repetition
Comfort in repetition
Comfort and fear combined
Comfort makes us blind
Comfort in chaos when it's organized
Comfort in the smell of changing seasons
Comfort in things that are easy to recognize
Comfort from cold pouring rain
Comfort in the unknown
Comfort in emotions felt in the soul
Comfort in waves
Comfort from a positive praise
Comfort in the way the moon shines at night
Comfort from closing my eyes signaling the end of the day
Comfort when thoughts...
Halt.
About the Creator
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More stories from Frida Ramos They/her and writers in Poets and other communities.
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi3 days ago in Fiction
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