Fearless, She lies there aching. The warm breath fills her ears and travels Down her neck like the inside of a flute. She gasps, As the scent plays her body like a grand piano. The rough touch, Like fingers on a saxophone Makes her drown like a clarinet’s mouth piece. She becomes a symphony.
The truth confirmed. she puked. Quickly composed, She emerged with a mask. This burden. This truth. Consumes her. And the truth is hidden in a lie. But how can she tell Her? That Her world is a lie.
Again, as a sufferer of sleep paralysis. This was written after one of my experiences. The sun was creeping in her window. She lay there and closed her eyes to rest. While asleep, She felt it crawl th
Her eyes open Struggling She roles over Dying To dream again. Another day. Another futile existence With no determined meaning, But an alleged reality. Where is our creator? What is it? Is it science
