i am going to murder the next french person i come across

1. a grey clipper - a cigarette lighter. a peerless mark of fire on my thumb. A flame down my throat. dark and cooling once again in the pocket. soon it will be as silent and cool as my heart - love burns; is the nicotine that leaves marks on the soul ( Read more... )

The Doctor's face was red in the blood of others and his shadow stretched over an invalid as he spread a patch of plaster over a wound ( Read more... )

a short sleeved shirt ( Read more... )

celestials ( Read more... )

words like electric lightbulbs

shift aside the curtains, say ...no not that one but the thigh of the lips, not where hands flock, there to flutter, softly soft upon shadow deemed skin. A mere silent gesture is more than this. Slighter than a sole bacterium yet somehow firmer, fuller than the flesh; every touch of time or collapse of space into ( Read more... )

The pale coffeecup (hewn from the tusk of an elephant) leaves a circle upon the table; a brown fossil; the raised ring of a dry moat ( Read more... )

i really need to burn all my other books so that i can focus on just one. just one novel. a large novel. something written by tolstoy perhaps. something just like stendhal or dostoevski. which will take my mind off words ( Read more... )

listen - none but my heart hurts, heeding meaning ( Read more... )

i realise i am massively sentimental and disguise this with cynical levity and when viewed through the prism of threat my obscurity becomes the esoterica of a violent extremist - the lone man, the growing shadow, the bitten stalk of a stainless steel streetlamp, the drunk coffeecup , the back naked of meaning and turned to your face, everything ( Read more... )