“I’m anxious.” I know you are. I walk behind you because if I walked in front of you you’d lose me and you’d get angry. There’s no point trying to negotiate. You think about the children, not you and I. Maybe it’s because you’re divorced, guilty, you keep me out all…
Pallets on a roof, aloof twenty-somethings on their coop-like balconies, bent arms of machinery, many miles from the farms of our ancestry. Messed up love, kissing on the pavement, rolling in kebab, dancing with someone, everyone, in a cramped bar, water dripping from the ceiling on the bartenders head, a roving hand on your…
I’m very hungry. This is a table. Is this a fast train? Why is not moving? It’s moving. Why are we not eating if this is a table? A mother sits on her phone instead of talking to her four-year-old son. I catch the little boy’s eye and he looks fed-up. Like he has…
I Monte Carlo, New York, New York Built in 1854, this spire with crows, tight jeans and rusted coasters. Smells of eggs, donuts, salty chips. Single boat stranded, afloat on the sand, grand blue boat, tilted. Reflection of council flats in wet holes. Thick haze, thinner there, water and sky, immersed in…
“The planet will one day be absorbed by the sun,” said the father to his six-year old son. “Absorbed by the sun?” “Horribly, there’ll be much fiery death.” The son nodded, “Like in X-men.” “Sort of, except X-men isn’t real, it’s a construct to help bring excitement to otherwise dull lives.” “Will it be dull…
“Close your eyes, son.” The young man closed his eyes. “Take a deep breath.” The young man did. “You are stood on the walls of our city, our home. Beneath your feet is the bulwark of our people, stone built higher and higher, mortar mixed with the blood and tears of our woman, our children. Our…
Frog with orange hair sat in the tub by the window. Stop watching me. You will only make me blush. Frog with orange hair do not make me blush. I become gas clouds behind sun. Frog with orange hair watch me turn around. I can’t face you. I will only make you blush.
(12) I can see the curve of Kit’s breasts beneath the towel she has wrapped around herself. Water from her hair drips and runs along her neck which I follow into her cleavage like the contours of a map. She catches me staring. “What were you doing in the garden?” she asks. I give it…
DAILY PROMPT: SATED The king sat atop the high chair at the end of the hall. Before him lay a spread of unimaginable gluttony: fat pigs, horses heads, cow’s testicles sauteed in French red wine, the brains of extinct monkeys, the heart of his worst enemy, which he nibbled after every meal, as an aperitif.…
I see so many people writing articles about what to do and what not to do when you’re writing. These may be helpful for a new writer, but it is best to break free of these rules as soon as possible. The very purpose of writing is to break those rules. Stamp on them. Take…
Seal Matches 