175 1 0
|
They are an abandoned garrison awaiting reinforcements that will never come.
|
100
|
The illuminated numbers on the face of the clock winked out and went dark at 5:43 in the morning. The taut electrical whir & buzz, clicked and went silent in the dim glow of dawn. It could be nuclear war, a polar shift, the end of time, or a branch on a power line. …
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340
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The illuminated clock winks out and goes dark The taut electrical buzz clicks off and goes silent Is it nuclear war, a polar shift or just a branch on a power line? In murky dusk I contemplate my pale reflection in the mirror I put on a blue shirt, red tie…
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34200
|
Then he told us tales of skulls and planks, galleons and parrots, silver and gold on crystal Jamaican seas under deep ruby skies.
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13981211
|
What would you do today if you knew your time was up
|
11721010
|
not of time, but of all the clocks/
that tick along toward the end/
of all the possibilities.
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144166
|
As military tears soaked into hymnbook pages
|
95111
|
Our revolutionaries
Have evolved into gamekeepers
|
5687
|
will not be dammed,/
diverted, bottled.
|
125732
|
nine
seven
thousand
debut
novel
words
i love you
thx for reading
by
#aksania
#xenogrette
#MINE
#novella
#birdking
#pixies
#ASPARAGUS
#SPACETRASHVIOLET
#SEX
#DOROTHYNOTROBOT
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16412
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The silence at the table was palpable, uncomfortable. I yawned, glanced at my watch, stunned that close to three hours had passed. I’d had enough of this true confession stuff and decided to head to Terminal 8. I slung my bag on my shoulder and stood
|
5953
|
TIME FLIES Wind up fucked-up on downers down in Oregon. Feed a spider LSD. Con her into catching a couple time flies. I cut one out of the web before the spider has time to bite the bug. Tie into a noose a hair yanked off my head.…
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3822
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A GAL NAMED SAM I'm leading Zero on his hair leash. We're in the kitchen a bit after midnight, checking out egg shells from breakfast eighteen hours before. Zero would prefer the yoke streaks fresh and moist; but he's glad to escape…
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21600
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You could not only hear, but feel the pulse of thundering traffic from a flyover that arced a quarter of a mile from the communal lobby of unpolished floors, multiple letterboxes and dehydrated ferns in various plaster pots.
|
110532
|
She flew through the air, linen skirt billowing around her. Below, her buckled bicycle was taking a different route. Less aerodynamic than she, its trajectory was brief, crashing into the ditch. Elspeth kept on flying. Time slowed, and expanded
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