his eyes are shut, swollen, purple, black and blue. must have been from the bullet as it ripped through. his body on fire from the fever, like a match ignited against the friction, cold steel struck against brain tissue. with this life, he has no more issue. time of... Continue Reading →
Klorrie Note #5
The eyes of death never close.
Illusion
As a magician carries a deep passion for his tricks— though he knows they are not real— We too cling to the illusion of what we used to be— despite the clear reality that what we had was nothing we could feel.
Writing My Worlds
As I start my day of redundant chores, I think about my reality and realize I’m bored. What is this world that consumes my life? It’s depressing and dim; as dull as a butter knife. Every day I wake up, and what greets me first thing? The same reality as before; that day after day... Continue Reading →
Klorrie's Corner 