Thoughts, Stories, Poems
Wake with the sun, and die with it…
Mitchel David Ring
have you found a way out of this prison flesh and bone…
Barefoot in the night, in a field washed by wind and starlight…
I was there when the world broke…
the dream is thinning…
I left a part of myself in those woods by the sea…
There wasn’t any meaning in me until you wrote my story
I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything…
On a morning cold as ice, Drank the poison at my bedside…
Give in, she whispered. It’s inevitable…
breathe in cold vapors, ash, heat in our lungs…
Storm isn’t enough to describe it, what we resisted as long as we could…
Frantic, shaking in the dark, cold the way death is cold…
The scene is set…
Come find answers— whisper at the moon…
The Light is On 