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Cat Cull
Morning finds Henry Flower jejune and fractious; his devoted dog, Asbo, has ridded the Cut of all cats, which he has left by the back door. Mildly surprised, Flo is busy preparing them for the skillet as Henry bemoans his lot…
After a day of indwelling and whooze, awake at dawn – about half-four. The level of eventlessness around here is truly astounding, enervation so immense that even the…
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You destroyed everything in your path like a full blown Kansas tornado.
And I was sucked up into your grasps with no hope of landing somewhere over the rainbow.
I didn't fall in love right away. I didn't fall in love at all. I watched you sleeping, and the slight smile on your lips didn't make my soul quiver. I just stared and felt that familiar blackness stirring inside of me. It doesn't make me sad anymore. I've learned to accept the dark and the light parts of my self. No one is all angel, nor all demon. As much as I wish the world was split into strict components, vectors, formulas, I am grateful for the blurred edges. What would I be if I had to choose? Would I be a nightmare or a glorious dream?
E.M. (gorgeosity)
Today felt soft and unsure. It felt like walking on a pistachio-pudding drawbridge, or a tightrope of spun clouds. I almost fell asleep in physics, and I spilt my English-Toffee coffee-ish drink all over my hands. My hands are soft. I put lotion on them every night and feel like at last I'm taking care of some part of myself.
E.M. (gorgeosity)
Dead Daddy Flower
Henry fell deep asleep & woke in warm, good sweat.
The pains oozed out. Must have been that extra twist of ground red chili I put in the pie filling. A dangerous man.
Warren Clarke is dead.
Posh Booker writers live on another planet. I am crap. Here we go, round and round, into the labyrinth. No we bloody well do not.
Bloody typical, thought Henry, off with the bad fairies again. You get…
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Where are you now?
Where are you now?
When I read your stuff I sit in a wishing well, I wish you well, I wish me well. I wish all goes well. Idyllic in some ways, but think of the dark cold dampness and the dangers overcome to get here. Yes, reading in a wishing well has profound downsides. A dead bird, rodent, the occasional baby, preoccupied drunks and lovers have all dropped in as I read your stuff; and, while the constant…
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Erratica
Erratica http://wp.me/sy3o2-erratica
The baying placoderms got their reward and drooled as the handmaids levered aside the hangar door. Once prized open, the cabbages breeched the portal, reeking mayhem, catalysing fights for rights, laceration and contusion major through minor to piddling. It was to behold abhorrent, compulsive spectacle: more poignant to more than most, the brassica grab was bestial anathema to the boiling eyes…
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