by Carol Casey The path is trodden, dusty, level.You know it will take youwhere many have gone. Step off—tangles of brambles,sometimes with blackberries,more often with little clawsthat catch on clothes and skin;and tortuous tree roots—inconvenient, sacred data unearthed—subterranean snakelets somehowsifted into snarls for feet to catch.There are stems that twine…
by Amber Box Death. On the side of the road. It’s always how I imagined it to be though, dramatic and alone. No one stopping to call an ambulance, no one stopping to close my eyes. Just me in a chair and the rush of cars barreling down the highway…
by Amber Box I will deceive you So turn away where the steam of my breath cannot be seen I am wicked You are mortal The shards of glass from your own wreckage Feed my poison Injected into your veins, the ghost of yourself Your treacherous thoughts are only the…