The wicked walk so low. They long to see their own tears, before they grind them into the ground with their heavy boots.
[I dreamt up these lines while imagining condemned souls in Dante’s Inferno.]
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Wicked Walk
Posted byMichael Sean EricksonPosted inUncategorizedTags:#God, #hell, #literature, #love, #meditation, #poem, #poetry, #quote, #writing
Published by Michael Sean Erickson
I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture. View more posts
You’re on fire today.
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Thank you. Poetic fire is tumultuous peace. Best to go with the burn.
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Indeed. Tumultuous peace.
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