Hallway crunchedHallway crunched marionette bones.Hallway crunched by dreamingshadow
Butterfly limbs caught and pressed into a book you read once about cocoons and transformations.
This moment is a plane without a time zone.
Don't call me a cab when I'm already home.
I stopped talking about the moon when I threw out my luck. I was too starstruck
to really make the connection and realise. Hiding lovesick sentence attempts two
trying to fuck.
I guess I'll watch the moon reflected in your eyes.
It's my white world stripped bare clean and nothing/swiping across your eye screen
leaving no trace
telling me I know my place
(Despite all the bubbles in their breath, I will always be whispering, 'you are a lit candle under the sea
When I wore iron shoes to a glass framed night and couldn't see myself for
all my reflections,
it seemed a shame not to set me on fire.
I dribbled over heartfelt matchstick arms, swallowing my for all your darling affections you don't set me alight and
our brimming c
I have been featured here:|
I am now offering up the short novel I wrote in seven days in November 2013 by request only. I'm not publishing it online.
If you're interested, message me, and I'll send it to you. Lame ass blurb:
In the breaths of draught let in by his presence in the doorway, her nightdress rippled a song of midnight sea; the impact of his own breath like a ghost boat sliding across her body. She was a blank white queen, like a human chess piece, surrounded by black squares, and only words now could be written upon her. She could be anything, it seemed, but not enough.
What is there to do when you feel nothing?
And how do you deal with a life you suddenly find yourself in, answering the surprisingly difficult questions from your children about the nature of the world and living?
existing follows the story of a writer who desperately tries to write himself, and his family, to a better ending.
A chapter preview can be found here: