Into The Night

‘OPEN’ flickered in the wet fog that saturated everything. 24/7 meant the pills would be left at the counter. He had meant to get there much sooner but the day did not cooperate.

Bright lights burn on white floors and wooden signs are painted where slaves offer their souls. There are only babies here, begging for forgiveness.

“What the hell! Are they watching me?”

Big brother is everywhere. Gray children hide like chameleons in the branches of circumstance. Nothing is as it seems.

Policy cannot save us. Feet are swollen and sick from abuse. Ears have heard too much tongue.

Published by darren thompson

hello invisible people, I have lived well and continue to live well enough. I hope the same for you. Writing during a pandemic with catastrophic wildfires, hurricanes, economic collapse, political strife, and toxic air means one tends to be pretty sedentary. I am reminded of our last trip to Cartagena, Colombia and the gang of sloths hanging out in the trees. Funny, I don't think sloths are ever behind schedule though. The book, FALLEN, is near completion. I know I've said this before, but I am definitely in the final lap with it. Though, I have not settled on the publishing or marketing of it, yet. I am not even sure how I will use this website. Admittedly, I've been writing on this bit for the better part of ten years. My mind has been wrapped around some weird urban sci-fi-fantasy junk. Feels like a twisted premonition of what is happening today. On another creative front, I am setting up a new website called: vomitpages.com which I am kind of excited about. These are writings and ramblings and musings of life when I am out of the flow with writer's block. There projects within projects there. Oh, I live in the Columbia River Gorge of the PACIFIC NORTHWEST. My characters are way more interesting. thanks.

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