January 2009
15 posts
“He was mad. He was mad because she was mad, and she was mad because he was mad....”
– see…
“A thousand years from today, everyone you know will be long dead and forgotten....”
– Rob Brezsny (via scout)
228. Be careful what you put in writing. You can't...
jaim: (via rulesformyunbornson)
she hoped he was happy now.
She had lost it all. The King, that castle, her reputable name. She didn’t so much mind all that. It would always be the weight of the guilt she’d placed on the backs of others. And the change in his formerly kind semblance of soul—she had inspired a great deal of hate. She cared a great deal about that.
and then the jazz came
goldinfifty:
It set clear and tangerine, dipping into puddles and rain on the gritty city streets as though it were parting ten thousand living seas. Nobody noticed, too busy being infinite streaming laughter. Children frog-hopping puddles, drunk on the wine of reaching comfortable destination, Cabernet warming tired huddled shaking hearts.
pockets
fiftywords:
It had come to him in a dream, this folded weft of cloth, enclosing items he’d carried only in his hands before. There would be an uproar among the shopkeepers, surely, to see their goods disappear behind the layered cloths of his person. They’d want to take his pockets away.
the mountaintop
fiftywords:
Well I don’t know what will happen now.
It was cold. See the rain, sprinkling puddles in the streets. See the faces, cheering under the clear light of the Mason Temple . See King’s face, now tired, strong, serene.
I’ve been to the mountaintop, he says. And I don’t mind.
the air is much thinner up there
i know all regards toward romeo and fair juliet. the raw hatred—between lord montague and lady capulet. i know all of the stripes slashed across thy back, tied to weeping willows in fettered flesh. mind’s banished. split. cast silver. fish. into thistled net. sanguine. black. cat’s. crossing paths. I know the bizarre tor of the triangle—and its hollow...
