Written by Jacob Ibrag We remained still, fingers intertwined within the midst of our manifested madness. Letting go meant the collapse of our young planet. And on the last leg of our last day, we let go and delivered the inevitable eventuality. Time is a faceless assassin and we were next on its list. Photography […]

via Remained — Eyes + Words




Dark room breeding my wounds

as I sit hidden in its shadows

those painful mutterings drowning

down my gullible throat



Echoes of lost warmth

reverberating through my hollow soul

summing my sorrows beneath my shadow

straining eyes see it lingering

the distant healer; Time

By Irene Clasper  see more of her work @ http://allpoetry.com/Irene_Clasper