where the writers are
Too dazed to comprehend

Streaming in ones and twos

in the dark night,

in between reality

and manufactured fright,

 

we run for our lives.

The masked man crackles.

The smell of gas in his laughter

as sharp as the pain in my leg,

 

as juvenile as the enjoyment

of modern entertainment.

It now follows

whichever way I go.

 

Comments
2 Comment count
Comment Bubble Tip

So sad, and beautifully put.

So sad, and beautifully put.

Comment Bubble Tip

Thank you Susan.

Thank you Susan.