Memory (Remove filter)
The Lavender Path
Somewhere, nowhere, between the press of sheets and ventilator’s suck and hush, his hourglass drips. The moving mountains mark his time, his pulse, his pressure, as he slips and slides through crusts of consciousness. These walls can barely hold him now; what’s left could smudge and melt away through every crack, but for the weight of years ��" the slack tide of a fading past...
Sunday 25th January 2009 2:08 pm
Recent Comments
R A Porter on The Eternal Flame
1 hour ago
David RL Moore on You can kill some of the people some of the time but you can't kill all of the people all of the time
4 hours ago
leon stolgard on HOPE!
5 hours ago
rob1967able on Colony 2B
5 hours ago
Landi Cruz on You can kill some of the people some of the time but you can't kill all of the people all of the time
5 hours ago
leon stolgard on In our lost curved ball world
6 hours ago
Landi Cruz on evensong
6 hours ago
David R Mellor on A Little Bird
6 hours ago
David R Mellor on A Little Bird
6 hours ago
Landi Cruz on evensong
6 hours ago