.Poems and Prose.
Grey river
Layered with silver bodies
Destination as their only thought
Until it is their time
To rot in a pool of rust
They will swim this river of grey
.Untitled Poem.
.Untitled Prose.
The acridy of that court room, the whole case, made me want to vomit. The taste of it was in my mouth.
His presence was stifling, but it only reminded us of the bitter hatred hidden inside.
My forehead was damp, though the room was not even warm. My brain knew this, but my body didn't. I felt dirty, grimy, as though I had been walking for miles on a sweltering summer day, a passing car my only breeze; dropplets of brown sweat on my forehead. But this was know desolate road, and the grime was only a feeling, a weight on the heart, the taste of evil mould.
Court was ajourned around noon.
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