Dan A'Vard
Profile
i need a muse…
i’ve found one for now..
but she is only a fictional picture in the
depths of my heart..
Art
Writing
the hut in the clearing
Tearing through the mountain forests / sweat dripping from her flanks / the bracken broken and twisted in her path / darting around rocks / over trees, under branches
a girl on a street in a strange city
she’s still beneath the tree / half waving, half smiling / her face obscured / but now i know her, or / maybe i just know something about her.
Wall
my eyes burn / from the inside out, / the pain running back into my head / and diving down into my body
jerk
He lay on the ground, retching, turning, / but the noise had gone out.
flimsy
each time, part of me would drop, swirling into the deep
shamal
it tears through us. / Clawing our burning skin and bloodshot eyes
