Calum in the Forest
Every shot taken draws the forest closer.
Every shot taken draws the forest closer.
Nothing but a trail of broken bone and rotten flesh.
‘Tonight will be perfect’, she thought, snipping an errant shoot and placing the bonsai tree on the table’s centre.
Two guys walk into a bar; the third one ducks.
So, who the fiddler’s flying fig decided Mars needed alligators?
“I’d love to, babe, but my phone’s just about out of juice!
The white line on the highway blurred and steadied.
I can’t find the time to write.
I relish the fine minutia of perfection.
I hear them, wriggling and squirming, first to my left, then my right, and then it filled my whole world with noise.
Water dripped from high above.
Ya see, us here wolves got a bad rap.