When I was fourteen, I saw an angel. It was likely 8 feet tall. And looking at it was like looking at the sun. I wake at 2.30am. Someone is shaking me, asking me about canons. I don't remember. 'What would it be like, to meet an angel?' they say. Their voice jumps in soundbites. 'Hell, that … Continue reading The anatomy of angels
Dang, this short from Fictionspawn Monsters is so weirdly delicious.
Plus I get a mention in dispatches. Grins shyly.
The lighthouse shows way for lost sailors. The wind pulls the stone walls, threatening to tear them apart. He knows it won’t. These walls have held storms for a hundred years. This storm was harder, though. Much harder. The sea was higher than he’d ever seen it. The wind stronger. The thunder rumbled louder.
A flash. A loud crack. He looked up. Out of the window looking over the sea. There was no light.
He put down his book, took his little lamp and went out to the stairs. The tall walls were making threatening noises. The pharo tower was built for hard weather. He walked up the many stairs. He looked around in the light of his lamp, tried to find the failure. He remembered a book about evil lurking in the shadows.
He was not afraid.
Outside of the lamp room a cable had loosened. He could hear…
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Once, I found the truth in Kafka. Now you're all I can think about. It feels like it's gonna rain again. Rooftop to gutter. River to ocean. Currents don't care about the colours of individuality. They take everything with them. But when I close my eyes, the plastic is always orange. And I thought. I hoped. That if I … Continue reading You dance like Brendon Urie
Forget roses, come to the dark side. Check out this wicked post by the fabulously talented Nthato.
February 14, 1847
Squalid streets buzzed with soot stained faces,
Bedraggled coats pulled against winter paces.
Dim lampposts illuminate shadowed vagrants,
Unwashed skin, waste, stagnant water – the fragrance.
Dazzling amber light washes over lonely streets.
Many, this night, have succumbed to their sheets.
Sleek carriage clops smoothly towards a juncture,
Where I shall meet him. The Vulture.
Damsel in distress approaches in glistening carriage.
I wait in shadow so none see this unholy marriage.
At the juncture I dart into carriage quickly,
She cringes at my sight, I merely smile thickly.
The Vulture nauseates, not only from stench.
Scarred face hidden behind long dark trench.
Sinister grin of missing teeth is bared,
Within his presence I am truly snared.
The warmth of carriage thaws prickling fingers.
Freesia scent drifts about like Lolly’s singers,
Yet this is a woman of class, so I present a souvenir
It is packaged carelessly, slick and dripping…
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Dress my obsessions in poison. When the splintering came, it came quietly, and now I don't give a damn about anything. I used to think it was compassion that burned in me, but turns out it was just a scaled up version of paradise. I ripped out the cellophane from envelopes and made a window but no … Continue reading Snakes & Ropes
Gaaagh!!! Check out the flippin genius that is, Crow. Can’t say anymore because I’ve read this and forgotten what my name is.
i’ve been skipping
through my music
one song after another
arranged like a handful
of thrown dice
waiting for the right chord
i wish i could play
but i hate practicing
did you see the ending
to my movie
the real ending
not that crap they
played in the theaters
or on tv
there was no heroic victory
a meteor crashed into my chest
you can only see it
on the director’s cut
special limited edition
it’s only available
in new zealand
for some reason
at some point
i start hearing the same
songs and wonder
if i missed something
In this agenda the nature of truth was lost. We watch Real Housewives while global warming is cleansed and sanctioned for re-branding Tanka: 5-7-5-7-7 Global warming & Nature prompt from: Ramblings of a writer