Midwest
Gothic
abandon farms
silos that are slowly turning back into the earth
street lights that flicker as you pass them
empty streets in the middle of the night, but you still hear
footsteps behind you
someone looking at you from a curtained window, then you
blink and they’re gone
storm sirens at 2 AM
an old radio carackling on, even though no one touched it
the endless fields know your fears
