I cut my hair, more often than most, more extreme…

I am sick. I can tell by the clovers sprouting…

Muck caked soles and choking shins.  Blotched cheeks, lungs squeezed. …

“Where are we going?”  I cannot answer, I float over…

I’m offered a room, where memories bloom, A doorway back…

If you could find me  Buried deep within the moss …

She doesn’t have long for this world, he said.  Simple…

The ground was frozen when we arrived at the manor …