That last day with you,the sunset in your eyes,a moment so delicate,like a candle in the wind.Though the candle flamesbehind your eyes had beenpinched by the ice-coldfingers of death.A candle in the darkness,the flamelight of your formlessspirit. We all...

Sheila is and always was a schizophrenic. This misery has haunted her since the dolls in school shifted their eyes to her – whispering… she still hears them. Shrieking glasses in the cabinet… no they were only fracturing, shattering...