Be prepared to have your mind blown. Continue reading
This is a poem,
Only so far as it has words,
On a page,
That you are reading, Continue reading
When the world is not going,
When the hippogriffs are dancing,
With their unbridled friends, Continue reading
You may think,
That with a title to a poem,
That I’ve gone insane, Continue reading
Think of a word,
Who are you?
What’s the word? Continue reading
In an experiment,
I am trying,
This poem is being written,
While I am doing something else, Continue reading
Yes, I do stay awake until 5 A.M. or 6 A.M. on the regular and find the shadows of the early morning look weird, but I am not a vampire. Yeah, I’m always complaining that it’s too hot outside, and tend to see a lot better in the dark than most people I know, but I am not a vampire.
Okay, yes, I have, on occasion, mentioned the odd (probably placebic) feeling that my teeth are both bigger and sharper in my mouth when I get hungry, and will regularly eat straight up meat in huge quantities until the sensation stops.
But I am not a vampire. Continue reading
You know it’ll hurt,
When you tell the tale,
Now then, too,
But the bruise sting—
That’s more the fail, Continue reading
“I have not slept in so, so long.” Harold picked up his mug and sipped from it. Waiting for the reaction from his friend. The one he had called over for this exact conversation.
“How long are we talking?” George asked, eyeing him. “This is not like that time in college, is it?”
“No, no, nothing like that. That was weak sauce compared to this. I have not slept in… huh, I think it was twenty days now. It has been a major boon to my work cycle, I tell you that. I have gotten all the projects done I was ever planning on getting done in the last week or so.” Continue reading
I ONLY EXIST AS LONG AS THIS POEM IS READ
I DIE WHEN THE WORD COUNT IS REACHED
A BEING OF WORDS IS I
AND I DON’T WANT TO DIE Continue reading
When they had brought Charlie in, when they had told him they were going to get the information out of him, one way or the other, he had no idea that this was the method they were going to use.
His superiors had trained him to not squeal any information even if they were attacking him in the genitalia. But, this, he had never expected something like this. Continue reading
Of one thing they were certain: they were not driving themselves that night. On the table was more booze than a man could feasibly drink, more wine than a Grecian of the olden, way olden days, could ingest—and they drank it like water. An alcoholic would have a pain in his liver at the sight.
And they were having a blast. Continue reading
“We are not real living beings, you know,” Caffeine said, then jerked his head to the side, looking at the door to the room.
“Yeah—but it doesn’t much matter. It’s nice being as we are, at least,” Alcohol said, and sat down on his chair. He stared up at the other two and smiled goofily.
“It matters a little bit,” Nicotine said, parting back his ginger hair. “I, for one, like to be flesh.”
“Oh, well…so do I, but that does not mean that we are.” Caffeine’s words came out rushed and flowing—like he had rehearsed it, but not well, and was trying to get them out as fast as possible before he forgot.
Alcohol laughed. “I did not get that at all.” Continue reading
I’m guessing some would recommend I don’t write about this, but, well, you all know I’m eccentric as it is—so, fuck it. Writers already have the stigma of being a weird bunch, but you’ve heard, likely, all the usual shenanigans—so, I’m doing you one better.
Not just researching murder methods, talking to people who they make up, or being totally willing to do dangerous/stupid things for the sake of a story: nah, I’ve got a set of much more unique quirks.
And it involves words and language. Continue reading
Lights are all over there.
Am I drunk,
Or deranged? Continue reading