Writer in San Francisco, CA
decay.
singed flesh
opened and bleeding
the rot begins
to intertwine with
limbs,
alone
in the empty dungeon
of wars and famine
can you hear the spirits
crying still as they decay
into the past,
into
memories?
Thank you for reading my work! I hope you will return in the future!
-Alina
Minds flayed and slashed
against the pavement
the hot boiling sun looming
down upon them
cooking them in the heat.
There are memories and
thoughts now dried
up and smudged
staining the ground.
Thank you for reading my work! I hope you will return in the future!
-Alina
p.s. I have changed the titles of my “Free Hand” poems to just “Poem” this is just something I decided to do. I think it is more straightforward and makes more sense than just “Free Hand” even though all the poems in the format are technically free hand poems.
The sun throbs
a warm pulse
that is blocked
by the grey fog
dense and cold
enveloping the
city. A radiant
orb, in the
distance
looking
like
some
one
I
used
to
know.
Thank you for reading my work! I hope you will return in the future!
-Alina
The body falls through space
into a quiet mind that lives in a closed place
circular dome that holds all the secrets
alive or dead, the matter bends memories
and thoughts live permanetly.
Thank you for reading my work! I hope you will return in the future!
-Alina
The sun buries itself down into the bodies of the hills
and I sink into an abyss of sleepless darkness in the night,
where did you find yourself? across the ocean?
or into another realm? where the sun never rises and
the moon is your goddess?