Welome to OWLLIGHT…

The space between dawn and dusk where inspiration breathes.

The Cold

It started in my toes A dull ache That grew into a deep throb Then a pain settling into the bone My fingers were next This time the pain came first Without warning The tendrils climbed up my limbs Wrapped around my chest Till my lungs burned Heart stuttured With blue lips I asked, “Do …


This isn’t the kind of tired that sits in the surface. The type of tired that announces itself with a yawn, and drooping eyes. The is the kind of tired that cracks the bone. The type of tired that settles into the marrow. Stealing your sanity. Eating away at the last shred of humanity.


The smell of cologne lingers near the door. A soft wind drifts through a crack, Pushing the scent into me. A chill dripping down my spine. The scent is familiar. Like something I’ve smelled every day. In the super market. On the street. Something familiar, But all together foriegn. You don’t wear cologne. The bottle …

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