A Very Sad Short Story.

Needing drugs The Hooded Thug waited to attack his next victims to get the money for his next fix! The Foureyed Poet.

Today we send off two dear souls – may they rest in peace. Regards to Rachel and Corey.

I live in a little wooden “house” in the backyard of my landlady’s home. Between the ferns, flowers and other flora, my little home is situated. At night I hear the squirrels rattle across the flat roof, which has caused me to jump in my skin a couple of times. But that doesn’t really bother me. I often get unwelcome visitors, namely, spiders, and this is where the inspiration for my topic came from.

Biology… the mere thought makes me want to vomit blood, and the sight but more importantly the knowledge of such blood makes me wish I was never born. My Enemy Within… and I know now that it’s not me and not even within anymore but without anyone.

A game where injustice rules.

Twisted Poetry.

From one relationship to the other!

Poetry.

Dark, Scary, Violent, Crime, Victim, Reality.