after dark they salt their shadows to keep the forgotten things out
Month: April 2025
dying worlds crack like beetle shells between her teeth
a beast the shape of a question yawns and reality forgets
what of the mad gods you ask: they melt into puddles at the edge of the void
godly halos pawned for riddles and miracles eaten by stray dogs
the forest grim laughs coldly at your need for north as the lands warp and morph
quietly sails the margins of mist the spring moon
elancharan gunasekaran 