Self-cremation
At night our pyre glows with sudden flares as tongues, ensnaring trees, condemned by us, the virtuos wardens turned to butchers, hangmen and assassins; we, the undertakers watch our garden […]
At night our pyre glows with sudden flares as tongues, ensnaring trees, condemned by us, the virtuos wardens turned to butchers, hangmen and assassins; we, the undertakers watch our garden […]
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
the woes and dreams of a twenty-something with too many feelings
Now we see through a glass, darkly
A Little Writing Workshop of Horrors.
rejuvenatement - not retirement
words and scribble.
The Quantumverse
Poetry
About fantastical places and other stuff
Sharing my thoughts, poems, travel & art