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Monthly Archives: September 2011

Rain

*BOOM*

Earth shatters around, they scramble to the lair in their thousands

*BOOM*

Another explosion, the wounded flying in the air and crash in the pools

*BOOM, BOOM, BOOM*

The floor erupts around, they try to block the entrance before…

*WHOOOOSH, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM*

The waters rise and force their way through the ones left behind, twisting their bodies into fractured rags, mixing with dirt and dust, steam-rolling down the tunnel, splitting into others, catching those too small or ill to run away, breaking armour, tearing walls apart.

*Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom*

Quieter now as those left drag themselves to higher tunnels, waves crashing below. She is safe, the children are safe. The others will wash away, shallow graves in the hardening mud. A thousand lost, a thousand more survive to take their place.

*boom, boom, boom*

And they carry on.

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Windows

Use the mind you were given, not the mind that you see in magnetic flickers. Also mind the gap.

Open the two windows to your soul. Don’t deviate, don’t follow the yellow brick road. Find your own.

Live for once. Live a million lives.

Feel free, be free, sing free

Fear can only hold you back, break the chains and feel the air on your brow

Be yourself

Others opinions are only their own, not yours, don’t take it to heart

Never be afraid

 

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Garlic

She sniffed her fingers, ‘garlic’ she muttered. It had been three days since she used it and nothing could get rid of the smell. She was pregnant, the fetus lurched with every breath of it. Of course, she didn’t know she was, or why this sickness had suddenly taken her.

She had been so careful before, but this time they couldn’t wait. It was the lack of mixer, or the heat of closeness, or the desperation to be loved.

She sniffed again and spontaneously heaved into the sink, small pieces of carrot and bile bobbing in the washing up bubbles.

‘Must just be a virus’ She explained to the fridge.

 
 

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Chilli Nose

Chilli nose, I have god darn chilli nose. You never remember the power of the pick, it could be hours after the chop and sizzle. Fingers laced with the devil.

Go darn chilli nose.

It didn’t even itch.

 
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Posted by on September 15, 2011 in experimental, fiction

 

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Hornet

Skidding across the bonnet, paint ripping and scraping it’s skin away as it bounces off the windshield, pelts through the air and grinds into the pavement, where is halts, twitching and oozing. The life force of a thousand men, still clinging to the world, bent on it’s mission though torn and broken. Dirty warrior of the sky.

 

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Tuesday

It’s too hot. I open the window. I shiver, shut it, and sweat in the air. It’s Tuesday. There is never much to say about a Tuesday. Too soon for the pub, too late for the weekend, and far too early for the next. A little stalemate. Sometimes you gotta make your own entertainment, and sometimes you can just sit on your arse and think about it. Can’t wait for leather season. For wool and nylons. For fires and cold toes warming. But, it’s Tuesday. And there is never much to say about that.

 

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Sweat

Cold sweat slipping down my back, a stifled scream as I bolt upwards, reaching for the shadows.

Maybe preacher man should exorcise these demons, maybe these thoughts could be tamed by a fuck.

But for now there is an empty bed, unmade, unwashed, springs sticking up like raw diamond.

Eyes ablaze searching for comfort, or movement. Or just hope.

I lay back and feel the perspiration sink into the fabric and watch the ceiling bend.

 

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