Dear God...I sold my son’s soul to the devil today...please don't be mad...let me explain...It started when I ran out of cigarettes...trivial... I know...but God...I was craving...I mean...really craving...it’s a sickness...I know...please don’t be mad...this may upset you but I really don’t want you to be upset...I don’t want Hell...I don’t want tiny demons chewing … Continue reading Child’s Soul in The Devil’s Hands
His eyeballs bobbled around the water-filled jar and he gripped the jar tightly to his chest. Little black irises swirled around grey, mucky liquid. The liquid was beginning to turn black. It never escaped, remaining sealed inside the jar for many weeks. The man’s fingers had a film of sweat coated across the pores and … Continue reading TEARS ACROSS THE SKY
The doll is a wax foetus. She is beautiful. Rounded brown lips soft and moulded and pursed into a suckered pleasantry. Stringy hair dribbling down her cheekbones and hollow orbs glowing. Down below the floorboards where fans hum and a fluorescent light flickers with hesitation. She is my baby. Whole and waiting. Pounded clay. Her … Continue reading The Wax Foetus
“We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep - it's as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out of windows or drown themselves or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us, the vast majority, are slowly devoured by some disease or, if we're very fortunate, … Continue reading Fragments of Hours Dripping Away
The television screen, the wonderful fog of truth reaching out with its robotic arms speaks bliss and I follow its command with precision and glee. The robotic arm shifts back and forth from my face, making a full screech with each degree of turn. Its metallic joint jerks awkwardly. A red neon bar lines the … Continue reading The Robotic Head Told Me
There is something acidic in the air and I don’t like it. Slight burns wallowing and rippling. The small follicles in my nose sizzle into powdery dust and I can feel my skin wanting to crack. Sand feeds through my fingertips and charcoal-like dust has dribbled onto my upper lip from nowhere. Strange, wild … Continue reading WASTELAND.
All my friends are dying. These are the thoughts which occupy my mind as the kettle subtly begins to boil and I can hear the bubbles slowly rising. The sun is piercing the side-window of the kitchen, and short, shards of white light mask shadows on the bench. As the kettle boils, I flip out … Continue reading Wait.
Today Grandma bought me my most favourite chocolate biscuits. She buys them for me all the time. I love my Grandma. I live with her. I have always since I can remember lived with my Grandma. She hugs me all the time and says that she loves me. This makes me feel good. It makes … Continue reading Little Ghost
The words glow. When you read them. It’s weird isn’t it? Slashes of pigment illuminating the page. They’re like sparkles. Fireflies dancing. The pages are soft. So delicate. Torn from the heart so easily. Like the words. Yes, the words could have boiled to the surface with the same delicacy. Brittle. Bound petals. Orchids. Scented … Continue reading In My Head The Fireflies Dance
I The dogs are crying again and I think I know why. And the man tells me to get in the car and I get in the car and I am in the car. It smells of smoke and he is taking me home he is taking me home. I can see my friends walking … Continue reading The Sour Drops of an Old Man’s Mind