By: Alex A kind of kindling, sparks awaken from dormant carbon. Dreams burn across the brow Through the heart. Across the senses. The town is sleeping through the winter’s clamour The wind is simply a snore, or a murmur unknown to the self. Doors closed, windows rattled by thrusting, prying hands Snow, hail, rain….
Category: Archive
Welcome to The Shiver Vaults: archived posts, from 2009 to 2018, still published on the ShiverWriggle website. The vast majority of archived posts are no longer published on the ShiverWriggle website. If you’re looking for something specific that you can’t find here, get in touch.