The Devil's Diaries

The riddle, he says.  When? There is no riddle, I answer. Just  whispers that eat away at  denial not the rotten bitter kind ...

We are all quietly sitting in an auditorium.  We are waiting for the presentation—for the balding man to come and turn on the projector an...

My lungs whisper love songs of  you  only to betray them   with spasms of  breath

I hear riddles all day long words but not in  English  no one wants me to know My heart is a tinderbox I am not allowed to  ...

Because he was a vision in snow         the carrier of my fears             he infected you with my reality          he melted you wi...

They found it, separately.  Sometimes one at a time, sometimes in small groups.  They all instinctively shied away from each other, acc...

“I am not a witch,” she told me.  “I am a goddess.  And so will you be, as long as you do what you’re told.” I looked at her for a l...