• Fiction/Poetry


    He dug himself a hole in the ground a place to burrow dreams for safekeeping while he tended to responsibilities Locked them tightly in a brass tin and kept the key hidden from sight as dreams belong to youth and freedom in an age before lost chances and untraveled roads laid the tin down and shoveled layers of dark earth, blanketing wishes forgotten ambition. Neglecting the hole in the ground trudging in and out of the room that represented the key kept stowed away like buried treasure work clasps wrists together in irons of promises and paychecks a black and white way for which he did not remember asking as years accumulated in…


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