Sunday, 29 November 2009
"You're too weak for this."
"It's what I want."
The truth was: I was too weak.
And then you're lips against mine; all cracked and worn. A tight, pinching grip on my shoulder.
Your eyes were fluttering.
In my head I knew. Either it was ecstasy or a death throe.
Friday, 27 November 2009
Thursday, 26 November 2009
You didn't think we'd make it, but we very nearly did. It felt like a lifetime of watches had fallen through my hands, and one of them recorded that moment.
I lost the taste of your lips.
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
I've managed to lose all the nibs to my dip pen aside for one which is broken.
I'm also listening to "Who killed Amanda Palmer?" and Patti Smith. Because I can. And Amanda Palmer is awesome. And Ben Folds can produce an album. Really. Bloody. Well.
It may only be Monday, but I am looking toward Friday and half a bottle of Drambuie.
Monday, 23 November 2009
Monday, 16 November 2009
"You'd think with all this shade, the city would be cooler." The first said.
Their bodies hung low in the muted light: drab without colour.
The second thumped his foot against the dumpster. "Instead the tarmac soaks it right up. "
Thursday, 12 November 2009
As per the rules (sort of), here are some blogs I nominate for this award, some are faithful readers, some sublime writers. Good bloggers all.
Clark Blue. He hasn't been posting all that often, but when he does... This is someone who can use language.
This Is Not An Exit. My favourite commenter, and an honest blogger.
Trouble, Thinks. A self proclaimed artist, musician, photographer, poet, saint at heart, sinner in practice (from her profile). Says everything.
wagner israel cilio iii I'm not sure how to describe this blog. Read it. That's all I'll say.
Pieces of You I think the layout of this blog is great (and the content, never forget the content).
A few creative facts about myself.
- I'm originally a creator of equations. (I studied Astronomy, Space Science and Astrophysics)
- I believe in the novella.
- I draw.
- India ink on paper, is there anything better?
- My dreams often fail me.
- I prefer few words.
- Creation is the result of destruction.
Monday, 9 November 2009
A woman further up peers over. I smile, try to appear friendly. She thinks I'm nervous.
She turns away, then her eyes flick back.
The man across from me shouts to the driver: "You gotta turn right here."
Sunday, 1 November 2009
I had this dream. It was dark and I was pushing through a corn field, you know? The sort where the ears come right up to your chest and it’s like you’re wading through water. The moon lit up the leaves like ghosts.
And where did you go?
Nowhere, I was lost.