Like grapes, it peels my eyes.
It's no time to shine a light on.
They say radiation splinters t' kill,
That death is a smoothing guiding.
But here is what the night's been unable to heal:
an accumulation of daytime crusades n' missions.
Grant me one more hour behind the screen,
No inconsequential might from worlds away.
When my features have realigned
, it will be time to hunt and forage.
Illyn, rocking in a dog cart without a rug
Graves, inhabitants *
20 hours ago