A sociopath who we could believe in, and so The Crooked Man rises.
Archive for ‘Writing’
Temp.
I once was a pilot, but I couldn’t fly a plane
I once was a meteorologist, but I couldn’t predict the rain
I once was a politician, but I couldn’t tell the lies
I once was a funeral director, but I couldn’t say good byes.
Ow.
The onomatopoeia
Singing misery, decimation
The sense of sensation
The First Story.
She was born of a big bang, trials and meteors blazed as time enveloped her. The anatomy of her galaxies flexed and defined, found forms and transformed. Shooting stars and gaping black holes ate matter, a retrovirus desirous.
Free Will.
My mystery is not done I don’t know where I’ve gone for I have been missplaced you see Am I […]
Chocolate.
Chocolate pleases the many As options are a plenty Caramel filled, coconut dusted rarities Smooth, Rough, Crunchy and yet Silky […]
A Thumb on the Lamb
Did he knock off a gas station? Is he a henchman or criminal condor? Is he real or a childish […]
Walking Away From The Sunset
He had the love He had the passion He had the world But He couldn’t shake it He knew there […]
Why writing is hard: A struggle with my own voice
Words, my own words are difficult for me to keep around. One sentence exhaled is quickly inhaled. However writing a […]
themischiefmemoirs 