Milking the Witch. Burning! burning high, upon her altar, Stoking blazing beacons for the broken, She weaves andsacan magic Deep into the folds of her jet-black cloak. Adorned with rough head-dress of oak mystically warped, Spiked rosewood hoops hang around her neck, piercing and scarring her pale, waxy skin. She unveils her breasts, brimming with…
Day: September 25, 2020
Morning Haiku – 75
Clouds churlishly crab Across shy cyan horizons Crying cool, clear tears.