Category: The Art of Absolution

While the rest of us were like moths flying pitifully to the light, she was
content in fluttering to the beauty of what the light illuminated.

Continue reading Moths

You could speak of delicate random perfections of snowflakes like some church choir schoolboy lying in bed with his boxing gloves on – but she was a blizzard that tore new dimensions as she bridged the gap between fantasy and reality, distorting my sense of time and warping my concept of space.

Continue reading Blizzard

…trapped in limited shades of disfigurement, layered on layers of layers, spiralling through an existential daydream where neither I nor he nor they formed anything other than treason to reason

Continue reading Disfigurement

Requiem furnished flood in blood – cometh, nothing, but singular thud

Continue reading Requiem

Notebook, pages fall – burdening ink – pages drink – like of blood as fibres link – words over words over words they sink. Vandalising every charge of reason, in a game of logical treason, like just another, and another, and another curve round a curve of never-ending curves. Temporal contractions, time in fractions, layers of reactions, pluses and subtractions, a pulse of present, and past, and future. A theory of B theory of a wiggly stringy spiralling thingy that goes round and round and round in a straight line! Tick tock tick tock ticky tocky fucking swinging pendulum, death! Clock! An abundancy of inconsistencies, they mock, screaming for assimilation, answers, theories, a man of many men infesting the head. Sense they gnaw, more and more! To whom listen? To whom me?

Continue reading Notebook

I wake from a sleep I never have but never leave, surrounded by gods in which I don’t believe, as everything I do was what I did in denial, and everything I did I will do on trial. I wake from a sleep I never have but never leave, surrounded by a conscience only I conceive. As my hourglass lays smashed upon a floor of frost, I am cold, I am lonely, and I am lost.

Continue reading Lost

he tried a token of relation; a smile, a splintered exclamation of a blank shot, smile back she did not

Continue reading Token

…a devilishly craving of ravenous need; a sordid thrust of lust, as rapist thoughts clawed her rationality leaving her nigh quivering and short of breath, as every dire pant became a traitorous teasing releasing steadily a flood flushing and crushing her down to a core of animalistic desire, want, and need, to rip, to claw, to take.

Continue reading Animalistic

…define winning before you throw the dice

Continue reading Die

Its the Torturing Reminiscence on a past of divorced reaction
Awakens surging regret that beams Reflections in fraction
No follow Fascist Religion and I’m anarchist to Government
But the Cross that consorts fear casts a doubt on my judgement
With believe hostility aside along with my loathing of mankind
I am in-part apprehensive of What God’s jury will find?

Continue reading Judgement

…such faultless modesty – she could wither a rose with its own envy

Continue reading Envy

Guy meets girl, falls in love and lives happily ever after. This is not that – this is everything but that. The closest you’ll find to happiness in the ending is its sense of never having started. There is love but this is no tale of romance, there is murder but this is no tale of crime, there is a question of mental stability, but only as stable as time itself. These are the thoughts of a man battling with a guilty conscience, that his own consciousness rejects, as he relentlessly pursues justification for who he is…

Continue reading The Conscience of Consciousness

She was looking at her phone again; she was always looking at her phone, tapping away, I knew not to whom she tapped. She liked to socialise online behind a personality she manufactured using parts she collected.

Continue reading Collector

I’ll start with suddenly, or just before suddenly, when a thunderous roar rumbled as a thread-like flash of light cracked and shredded the dark canvas that what was prior, a clear sky. Rain plummeted from the heavens like razor-sharp rocks, here I was, stricken within this shower of pitchforks

Continue reading Start