The bubble cab drops quickly. Through the transparent plastiglass roof the Anvil can see the city’s bottom, a mishmash of giant tubes, pipes, grav generators and spotlights. The ocean below rises to meet the taxi, a cacophonous tundra where waves … Continue reading Anvil. A short series. Part 2.
Deserted. Desert winds wax and wane around my anxious senses, tinged with the scent of the exotic, the lingering perfume of your passing. I track through the remnants of my wandering wastrel heart, amongst tumbleweeds of loss and regret, wondering … Continue reading Deserted. A poem.
My walls. Are. Black As oil and just as wet. Wet. … Continue reading My Black Walls. A poem.
Every once in a while, I find myself in a mental space I’d rather not be in. And it doesn’t seem to take much to get me there. It’s a sure sign of poor mental health when a clothes washing … Continue reading Meltdowns happen.
He awakens to a miasma of colour, of senses and routines flashing incandescently in his mind, before his eyes, of images and words and confusion and cacophony, as the world comes into focus. Through the informational arrays filling his vision, … Continue reading Anvil. A short, unplanned series. Part 1.
Here I am, surrounded, my enemies on all sides. A pincer movement designed to take my pride. Am I not deserving of my pain? Am I not due comeuppance? I have unintentionally misled, miscommunicated my intent. I have been vain … Continue reading Surrounded. A poem.
Salt-filled streams in cotton valleys, stuttered remnants of hazy fantasia. Every shed raindrop that stains this silky, cloud-like tundra, is just another overture to redeem my lonesome, enervated soul; another blatant and monotonous attempt at constructing a beatitude of nearsighted … Continue reading Beatitude. A poem.
The police lights twirled, casting brightly coloured fireflies against the mansion walls. Police wandered back and forth from the house. Everywhere you looked was yellow crime scene tape, cordoning off the building and grounds into their own little worlds where … Continue reading The Sale. Part 20. The Final Instalment.
Why is it every TV show I watch reminds me of what I want, the desirous and palatable fuel that I need from you? Every heartfelt admission of love unrequited that looms heavy and untold in my vision, every sideways … Continue reading Unrequited TV Love. A poem.
I often ideate about endless sleep, when the lights are dim, and my thoughts are deep. I sought it once, but I screwed it up (if I wait forty years, I’ll get what I want). My new long term goal: … Continue reading New Goal. A poem.
The revolver was shaking in Silas’s hand as he pressed it against my skull. Water streamed down his face, mingling with his tears. I closed my eyes tightly. I could hear a rush of breath escape Aisha’s lips. The hammer … Continue reading The Sale. Part 19.
The outer skin chafes like the cajoling blister on my consoling heart. Only those who look deep can perceive the anxious, pitiful, exhausted souls that have walked so many miles in this inclement weather. My first book of poetry, The … Continue reading Blister. A poem.
Thanks so much to beingmimismumma for the nomination for another Sunshine Blogger Award! I would love to answer the questions you have posed for me, however I’ve got two uni assignments due!! But don’t despair: here’s a link to my previous answers from a few days back! (Big cop out, I know, but sometimes life gets in the way…) Cheers Steve 🙂 Continue reading Another Sunshine Blogger Award! Thanks heaps – I am not worthy!
I’m just a hollow tree on less than hallowed ground. My sap is drained and pain, profound. Within this forest, where my … Continue reading Hollow Tree. A poem.
Why do we hurt each other so? Why do we tear at our bones like brutal, savage, starving DOGS (begging and braying for blood) until all the meat and gristle is torn away and our ivory husks GLISTEN with the … Continue reading Feast. A poem.
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