Night settles into the trailthe way water settles into low ground,slow, almost stagnant.No one comes this way after dusk.The park gate closes hours ago.The gravel path stretches aheadthin and pale under the lampslike a thought that refuses to finish.Boots...

The summer heat of that July night lingers in my memory like a burn. Fireworks used to represent a celebration, yet now the bursts of red and gold only signal the moment the floor fell away. A sickening truth...

The bass thrums within the marrow of the bone, striking the same deep chord as the tide against a rotting pier. Every syllable carries the heat of midday sun. The ink smells of brine and dried cedar. I anchor...