pitch black a hand slips through the veil to find comfort
Month: January 2024
winter at dawn the old crow’s guttural growl
the subterfuge of glances ready to peel the layers from winter’s skin
revise macabre sentiments to the tune of black gold shadows
the winged oddball ramming itself wall to wall beetle juice anyone
winter fingers reach out and gently grasp at fleeting moments
plain dread brain dead need we say more
dirge of the socially forbidden fruit in the dark before dawn
limbs slinking from reaponsibilty possessed by the spirit of the cat
balancing off the edge of the curb hands off me winter winds
elancharan gunasekaran 