It’s not that I don’t have the words for it, but that there’s no one around to hear it. And words are lonely wisps, alive only in the eyes of the observer. There is a fresh word for this insanity now, they call it rapid cycle bipolar disorder. No-one else heard its name though, … Continue reading Micro. Mania.
Category: Shorts
The Guinness Sigh
The sigh that follows a protracted, tantalizing gulp from a fresh, cold pint of Guinness is paradise. That luxurious satin nectar of bitter ecstasy filling around your tongue, your gut, your blood. It's the hard-earned sigh when propping up a stiff foot after a long hard Saturday, where the fifth cup of coffee … Continue reading The Guinness Sigh
Weeps the harlequin
And goodnight to you, good lady. May you wake to a bright and better tomorrow. It bows. Such is the role it plays. The Jester. The fool. The harlequin to the Innamorati. Translator of absurdity, the courier of consolation and conveyor of catharsis, who rides upon the east wind and sparkle with dew. It entertains, … Continue reading Weeps the harlequin
On flowers, and artificial grass in a pot
In one surreal moment, Ido was up at five a.m., head bursting with frenetic thoughts that demanded to be committed to word, only to delete the draft by accident with no idea as to what had poured out of him, and spent the day in that hazy, drugged up sentimental way, as if he'd lost … Continue reading On flowers, and artificial grass in a pot
P.N. Setepenre
Is today's sunlight same as yesterday's? Kind of brain-scraping when you think about it. There's nothing intrinsically different, in the sense that they're all made of the same 'stuff' - electromagnetic radiation from the sun. Which would make sunlight truly egalitarian - to kings and beggars, sunshine is sunshine. Life has been shitty lately. Supposedly … Continue reading P.N. Setepenre
Sunday
It's the way Sunday morning feels, aloft, everything else in the world suspended. You wake up to the tickle of sunshine, to a serene stillness occasionally rippled by faint snoring from the silky silhouette besides you. You can’t help but smile at the memory of last night as you tiptoe around the mess on the … Continue reading Sunday
Home
The rebel act of a wayward son.
Oh but it was only sentiment.
It is the knowledge that is comforting. You are surrounded by a motley crew of midnight faces, boys and girls enraptured in the moment. She is there, across the room. She doesn't look at you, and you don’t look at her, but somehow you know she’s there, that there is a secret world shared by … Continue reading Oh but it was only sentiment.
Ugly
I set the ocean ablaze with my own sun.
On the spectrum of life
Epicurean - Stoic Apollonian - Dionysian Gay - Straight Political Left - Right Blond - Dark Roast Introvert - Extrovert Good - Evil Ultraviolet - Infrared Death metal - Post rock Child to Adult Few things in life are black and white. It would be so much easier if we could plant our feet firmly … Continue reading On the spectrum of life
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