I was standingon the eighth hole,a 99-yard par three,thinking about the shot.Nine iron in my hand.The sweltering July heat.Staring into the sunat the green.That big oak treeon the right side.Thinking abouthow many timesI had found it.Avoid the trouble right,I...

wild mood swings, biting tearing wordsaltering the world around mewords are spells they speak things into beingfirst come the dreamsthen the thoughtsthen manifest by the act of believing/talking them into realitya witchery thing? no, this is true of us...

Death drifts into the dimDraw by the smell of blood More dangerous than a tiger More dangerous than a viper More dangerous than a mad man With a mind to killMother mosquito Feeds on the dying Bites into the living The bite of death Drifts off into...