Elias sat alone in his apartment, the hum of the city bleeding through the walls like a relentless tide. The muffled sounds of car horns, hurried footsteps, and distant conversations were
Upon the wall, a clock remains,Not bound by time, nor held by chains.Its hands don’t just count rise and fall,But whisper truths beyond them all. One hand gleams, a guiding light,A
Wonder through pores, I open at the close. Tickling the toes of the three-faced ghost.Feelings for a thing that wakes in a dream,And begins to choke their friendliest host. Funny how
