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My cave is lit with tiny lights
I climb the stairs and catch the sights
Of other people far below
I've heard of them, they think they know...


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The Son of The Sheik 1926 (based on Edith Maude Halls novel ( Read more... )

There is a thunder in our hearts. Our tongues taste like music. Our bodies are the instruments.

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Through a rusted open iron gate the once carefully tended courtyard waits, rosebushes embrace the twiggy hydrangeas, a kitchen sink sleeps in a bed of foxglove, violets volunteer underfoot. The dirt smells rich, spongy, decaying leaves left in layers from a second season of regeneration alone. A pair of pink flamingos on painfully bent wire legs ( Read more... )

She was a China teacup and he was a coffee mug. When he would see that teacup, it gave his heart a tug. She was way above him, high up on another shelf, still he was sure she'd love him, if he declared himself. Oh, one day on the table, he was at her side by chance, he seized this oppourtunity to start his big romance. But when he began to speak up ( Read more... )

Her bosom like two scoops of vanilla with a ruffle trim. I've never seen eyes so alive. Tell me now your tale of lies, of a body rested, a feast of flies. Valuable lessons come from a table, tea, and a stranger.

EMO FOR DUMMIES ( Read more... )