A serene massacre. How cute you see a tunnel of light.
Tag: absurdism
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Alloy
The sad part about Atlas: When he shrugged, no one came to rub menthol cream over his bruised shoulder.
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Darkness says she’s not left-handed
Gentle ambition lives among the fears of wasted breath. No sooner had I clung to this revelation than the cliff stopped abruptly at the entrance of my fall. Honestly, rude.
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h i h
Now and then? More like: all the time, everywhere, all at once. That sounds like the most British thing I've heard. The only thing, honest, and you should be honest. Tell me how to get there and I swear to you, by sould, by blood, by iron, we leave. Well, did you find a bowl or not? Have you lost your mind? Your head sloshes full of soup. Consider that, your eye half eaten by the falcon, Horus. Maggots wriggling about the lens - have you no shame? Nothing to see here, not since I lost my eye, after all.
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Benched
The bench spoke to me. I waited so long: the daily walks, the nervous glances, - hoping. I made excuses, now thinking about it, to walk by. Deluding myself to believe. No, I do like walking. I do like that bench. Around and around that gnarly, blood-footed path. And then sat, “please leave“ it requested. An underwhelming introduction, but chills and flutters still. I walk on.
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