paintedmonk

A captive audience under a full moon.

Age & treachery

Age & treachery

Howling at the moon and ready to fly on leathery wings.

Chasing the sunset and letting go for the drop.

Endure the hardship, embrace the bitter, fuel your flight.

The forget-me-nots bloomed in salute as she passed.

"A light fell about her, and her hair shone in the sunrise."

Words are clumsy bridges for our heavy meanings.

But it has grown lethargic and careless, confident in its poison and regeneration. Polearm and shield are mine to clear a trail through the scaly coils.

Whenever you hear the rain, you will think of her.

People had it wrong about the song; it wasn’t a perilous lure or a death curse, though it could act as those things too. It was remembering the notes of a life before ever hearing them and then reminding a person about something they’d rather forget.

Now: With your best sleight of hand, cut the deck. Shuffle, don’t run. The crowd only sees the magic dance, not the cost of each step.

It can get lonely down here.

Hanging out with the birds

"Straps are easy, unless you're weak"