Verysoon hewill vanishcompletely in the wingsof his ownwordlessstanza. [ ]but hisstanzais notcompletely
This is why classical thought concerning structure could say that the center is, paradoxically, within the structure and outside it. The center is at the center of the totality, and yet, since the cen...
There once was a poor man who walked around without shoes. His feet were covered in calluses. One day a rich man felt sorry for the poor man and bought him a pair of Nikes. The poor man was extremely...
Symbols shmimbols. Sure they're important but... Well look at Ahab's whale. Now there's a great symbol. Some say it stands for god, meaning, and purpose. Others say it stands for purposelessness and t...
Immensely clever story, and quite creepy, in a delightfully scary way.
I'm so tired. Sleep's been stalking me for too long to remember. Inevitable I suppose.
I went outside. Tried taking in the billions of stars above, lingering long enough to allow each point of light the chance to scratch a deep hole in the back of my retina, so that when I finally did t...
I miss you. I love you. There’s no second I’ve lived you can’t call your own.
I live at the end of some interminable corridor which the lucky damned can call hell but which the much unluckier atheists - and your mother heads up that bunch- must simply get used to calling home.
Whenever we roam be beside me.When you're allone. When you go.When no one comes along. And for all weWander. Encounter and openAllways curl up with me.Give me pain, past and fury.Betray my way. I won'...
My flying kick nicks his nose. A warning. Worse if I weren't succumbing to squeal.What a feel.I'm too multiple to feel.A fork ahead.I take both.
You shall be my roots andI will be your shade,though the sun burns my leaves.You shall quench my thirst andI will feed you fruit,though time takes my seed.And when I'm lost and can tell nothing of thi...
Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that g...
We're the unmended, the untended,cold soldiers of the shoe. We're the neglected,the never resurrected, agonies of the few.We're the once kissed, unmissed and alwaysrefused. Because we're the unfinishe...
We both thrive in the late hours, appreciate its sad taste and never get in the way of each other's dreams, even though Lude just wants more money, better parties and prettier girls and I want somethi...
Verysoon hewill vanishcompletely in the wingsof his ownwordlessstanza
Tom gets by, Navidson succeeds. Tom just wants to be, Navidson must become. And yet despite such obvious differences, anyone who looks past Tom's wide grin and considers his eyes will find surprisingl...
Scars are the paler pain of survival received unwillingly and displayed in the language of injury.
Perhaps in the margins of darkness, I could create a son who is not missing; who lives beyond even my own imagination and invention; whose lusts, stupidities, and strengths carry him farther than even...
Not only had Navidson carried Karen out of that house, he had picked her up a hundred times over the course of eleven years and carried her fear, her torment, and her distance.