Bleeding, Blending, An Ending With The Living Dead
by Steven Holding Slow shuffle, like a senile senior citizen. Shoulder to slumped shoulder. Your own odour, Eau de decay, bothers you no longer. You’re at one with the crowd now. Amidst this apocalypse, you experience an acceptance never found in life: not inside, doing time, nor in padded asylums. The herd swerve, having […]