Foggy

Foggy

I can hear the fog,
whirring like the spiralshell
when i’d listen to the ocean
I can taste the gray
wet as the leaves
resting on all the stairs that led to nowhere
I can smell the stillness
like the doe raised ear
and quick turn of the senses,
I can hear the fog.

The Daily Prompt: trapped in a room with your greatest fear, describe it:

I’ve been feeling unambitious/uninspired this week, so I thought I’d ‘prompt’ it today. I think its for lack of cappuccino.

What are my greatest fears? Its situational. I guess being alone in a dark room that is cut off from the world would drive me insane. The room has be far enough removed, and totally dark. Add to that room earthworms crawling all over me, a werewolf in the corner ravenously about to eat me, (or better yet, someone else as I hear them being torn apart while screaming, knowing that he’s coming for me next) , and maybe a candle illuminating mirrors, to watch it all happen in multiples. That’s the worst that I can think of.

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