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Ravens And Crows

Ravens And Crows

Ravens And Crows: Three

Join me if you will for a stroll near The Edge.  A walk through the park of panting breathless needlepoint embroidery laced with terror.  Let us embark on a treacherous trek beneath the surface of Comprehension to the very bowelish sundered pinings and confinings of Unsanity.  Veer right below the Arc Of Apprehension.  Steer left toward the Brink Of Doom.  But don't hesitate there or you'll be lost.  Let us slog amid the sludge, jog across the drudge of wasted thought.  Venture beyond the dungeous drapes of the morbid mundane, into the hinterzone of unhinged reasoning.

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Ravens And Crows: Two

What is creepier than Mister Sandman, stealing toward your bed or cradle, dragging the dusty velvet mantle of Sleep?  What is scarier than a dense hair spider squatting with menace upon the floor?  What, oh what, could be ever so daunting as the middle of a stormy night when the next lightning flare could reveal a dark shape where it doesn’t belong?  What else but the wrath of an inner tempest, lashing out at all who dares to trample the contours of my sanctumonious impliety.

 

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Ravens And Crows: One

Imagine, if you will, the sloooooow aggravating creak of a chamber door that swings inward upon cobwebbed hinges. Musty seldom-breathed air, thick with sediment inside a claustrophobic dungeon attic, suffocates your lungs. While the throbbing irregular rhythm of a heart being squeezed by the tense grip of dread shudders in your chest.
 

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Lori R. Lopez

Rafael Lopez

Noel Lopez