Don’t worry too much that the words in your newspaper are dripping off the page.
Worry about the terrible price that will be exacted,
by the sentient being formed from the black ooze,
after your final wish.
The Sleepcoat League
Armchair anthropologist, sometime scribe, freelance philosopher, amateur artist, part-time poet, musical maven, alliteration aficionado.
View all posts by The Sleepcoat League