Doomed to the night’s quarters!A Poem by andrew mitchell
One had to be a dream catcher,
an internal supernatural sleuth to catch the echoes of a memory immersed in phantom laughter that comes and goes with the moonlight chasing shadows. Was the mind haunted, or bordering on madness by a resident thought reoccurring in spasms in the form of sporadic flashbacks? Maybe, it was just waiting for the call from the afterlife while making the smoke, teasing the fire feeding the nightmare that bellows of past ghosts. Either way, it was smoky inside and the air was getting colder. © 2019 andrew mitchellReviews
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1 Review Added on February 15, 2019 Last Updated on February 15, 2019 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more.. |

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