By John Grey Youth spent. Future here, Don’t like it. Too many lines in the face. Too much gray in the hair. And your stomach’s as bloated as a volleyball. Nothing any woman would want.…

Source: That Fatal Glance in the Mirror

In the corner of my eye A darting shadow A prick on my skin And a presence felt through malice The dark one The one who inserts vile images in my mind Images of death and worse When I am sad When I…

Source: THE DRAGON