#225 (a dark crimson)

delicately threading words her feet constantly pushing down the pedals the loom is never still steadily creating verse by verse the basket overflowing yet she does not cease not even in her sleep she weaves the yarn stirring in a dream with bleeding fingers aching feet yet she does not cease to chave her flesh … Continue reading #225 (a dark crimson)


#150 (the tick)

I found a tick, stuck in my thigh it wasn't thick, I think it died although it bit and tried to feast I was in luck; it got released ∇ so often I carelessly neglect the ones I do not wish to cross but hiding between branch and moss the tiniest beings need respect   … Continue reading #150 (the tick)