With black tendrils she sways, down her forehead and brushed back with toned, olive polish. Her clothes fall freely with her legs, her breasts, her feet bare when she can help it. Subtly, into back she fades - no, like the backdrop walks with her.
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.
What does that even mean? You cannot have your cake and have it eaten too. It takes two to tango, honey, and talk is cheap. So, I speak by the hour, and pass collection when the hook penetrates your soft, upper palate.
Trigger warning – violence, graphic depiction: please read with your own safety in mind.
Subverting patience one expectation at a time. I like to weaponize existentialism - it’s my kink. I don’t even like the music, I just know you like me for listening. What a ball, a beautiful wedding. So pulls the oxen on cart. Pardon me a moment while I spiral out of control here.
I did nothing but watch helpless as the young of my generation, the gifted and beautiful, trapped themselves in the same dead ends we hated the old for wasting their lives on. I’m sorry.
From birth your time, they say, will come. Your family excited, the papers, you sign. Guns flare. The uncles, the grandads, the fathers - those left - they say, your time will come. You sign, they cheer, you fight, they boo. Your war will come.
It becomes a dream you share. The first to wake up leaves.
Let their derision fuel your passion.
Our ancestors sold the future
for convenience. Now,
we waste away,
fighting for peace of mind.