The charred bones lay brittle and black, who would ever have thought they once belonged to a boy so handsome?
The Solitary Furnace
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Benjamin Blake offers up an extremely personal collection of poetry for Secret History Books . Heartbreak and loss, cigarettes smoked and... -
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Walking the rows Of aged and sunken stone I came across a large patchwork feral cat Laying at its feet Was the still, small b... -
The monolith stood before us. It's sudden and unexpected appearance in the woodland clearing, more than a little disconcerting. -
Read 'The Night I Drank with Charles Bukowski's Ghost' in Horror Sleaze Trash .
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