Move it, Sunshine.

On a hill where wars were once waged, sits a willow that weeps when it rains. It calls to the gods with each blow through the sky; earthed in the pasts remains. The faces and sounds and bloodied grounds; a twisted carnival of shame; hard to breathe even harder to believe that the sunshine isn’t … More Move it, Sunshine.

She Bled Red Wine

I wrapped her, in red ribbon. I breathed against her skin, and heard her thoughts crashing against the inside of my skull, like bones clicking when stretched too far. She ached. Though I didn’t know why. Nor could I ask. Not yet. Her eyes changed colour with each mechanical snap of the lens. A flash … More She Bled Red Wine

Or Don’t

So staid, so demure. So very retired in your advances. The grass grows beneath your feet as you move towards me. So timid. So sedate. So very, very uninviting. I would have licked the edge of my sword long before your hopeful gaze realized I was even gone. Am gone.

Only Joking

Close the door, please. Open the window please. Stand, in the shadow of the sun. Smile. Make eye contact with the devil’s souls. The ones that leave trails. Fingerprints. Scents. Dance. Mingle. Laugh. Breathe. Mouth the words to myself: Stay calm. Have a drink. Sink; into the temporary release that comes from the gift of … More Only Joking

Moving On…

Only half done, the sleeve…  but I am pleased. Four ravens. Four souls carried from here to there. As for the giant one on my leg – that’s my soul, and she can wait. She tried, and she failed, so the lesson was learned. There is still strength in fragility. Beauty in broken wings. And … More Moving On…

Mental Bleach

I often lean back in my swivel chair, and note my fingerprints on the glass desk that I work on. It is a dark, almost black, thick and beautifully large piece of glass balanced on two ‘A Frame’ cast iron stands. It takes four people to move it. But the metaphor here, for me, is … More Mental Bleach