Their lederhosen
Whip
Whips
Whipses
> > > I AM
Scarred // bleeding // waving !!!¡¡¡!!!
One-eyed Jack smiles (*)
The single knife sharpened
Chastising my limbs
Chirping with open arms
Embracing nichts
The bird of pray
The Lord’s final
Measure
Alone
Strolling down the street AT NIGHT – dusk rising ; Waves of blood the gutter see ;;;; mermaid drowning ::: suggest alterative ending &&& frowning
His heart pounding – full moon HOWLING
The cleaver **** bloody **** dreams **** dreaming ****
Chop // Chop // Chop
Alone (not)
Her arms embrace
His love — at last
Silent
In the beginning there was The Robot
The concept and purpose(less|full) Robot
Hard ; polished steel ; oiled
:
In the end there was The Robot
Human ; inherited ; flawed
Rusting
—
Written with some inspiration after reading chapter 1 of Holy Robot by Vasilina Orlova :
or
You died the Tumblr death and
Thus my words have lost a lover
Me – a lovers death
I was looking through my archive and realised that many of my early posts no longer had any notes attached. As people “pass away” on Tumblr (blog deletion) their likes are removed as well. There is no everlasting love on Tumblr 🙁
Contrary to public beliefs, the X has never marked the spot. A solid O or a D or a 0 are more commonly found after a nocturnal adventure. Also, the 9 has frequently showed up where more moist conditions were present.
Prompted by a @thatrandomprompt prompt: X
Only fear, relentless; everlasting fear, fear is the glue in the tracks that prevents me from moving on, fear injected in early days, fear asserted throughout the years, fear of failure and fear of rejection; now fear of someone dead still here.
If I recall correctly, it was on Anglesey
that we laid down, between the rocks,
the barren landscape with a rough wind
howling, not bothering about the misty
rain falling, we made love and I soiled
the earth before leaving.
If my left hand could match my right
If my fingers could walk the walk
If my shoulders could cope with pounding
I would be a one man band
Ponding
Bashing
Screaming
Hounding
My words would hide deep under a heavy metal pounding drum and the world would be none the wiser.
No, I never agreed to sell my soul to the Devil. He came and took it when I looked the other way. Turned the blind eye to the path well lit, I chose the shadier ways. No, there was no contract written, between the bearded saint; the goat and me. I made no choice consciously, and the acid burning still; in me.
@circle-no-10: awesome prose, is the road less taken when the walker is blind-folded.
Have followed this bog for ages now, well worth it, diversity in writing is what is interesting to me.
Endorsement from a fan! YAY! Thank you kindly @anjo-da-guarda-me 🙂
