
there’s a thin line
with a razor distinct shine
that whistles at work
when silence blooms
the cornmaze outside of town
gnashes rotten teeth
abandoned houses
never deliver a fright
like the sound of knives
who is it that breathes
when the gravesite is filled up
noises underfoot
Will D. likes the dark. There’s always another friend in the shadows, you know. Incants under @ByThisWillAlone