The fog

The fog

By: L. F. Young

28 May 2025

*trigger warning: none

*not my picture

Long, has the great perilous gray hazel haze of days, been lingering over our soured heads. Bedfellow an heated lover, to these calamitous and laboriously heart wrenching misty nights.

Sadness, ever at the ready with heaps, of endless bouts of forlorn. Willfully drenched in the gravy of misery and misgivings. It suckles upon those tasty moments, those morsels of pure delicious delight of unadulterated… fear.

As those patrons of misadventure attempt to navigate, quite beautifully painfully pitifully, within its misty brain dampening haze. Dancing this way, stumbling that way.

It nibbles on those stumbles, and suckles gently upon those drunk induced pathetic patrons who desperately wish to get away. And with each luscious gulp, it grows ever more hungry.

Ever more intense. Ever more voluptuous, in it continues growth. Like an ill fated curse, dripped from a scorned lover’s bloodied lips. And with her dying breath, a mist is released. Fog has been ushered, unleashed. It has a purpose… an unending hunger.

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