Photo by Jessica Arends on Unsplash
two hours of waitin’
teatime tradition must be
lionised promptly
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Thank you for reading!
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.
Sylvia Plath
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More stories from Moon Desert and writers in Poets and other communities.
Bacon
Satan, laughing, spreads his wings. He launches into an atmosphere riddled with smoke, soot, and ash. He feels the radiation from a thousand fallen nukes. For humanity, it’s certain death. For him, it’s like bathing in a sauna. He laughs again at the thought.
By C. Rommial Butlera day ago in Fiction
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