“Where have I been? I’ll write it on a whisper and mail it in a dream.” The Ghost Writer
The Philosopher’s Voice “It’s a dream, an endless looping dream. We evolve from their template into something else, and when we reach maturity of mind, that certain level of science, they end us. By hook or by crook, we’re done for. There’s no hope. No happy ending. No golden tomorrow. We discover the undiscoverable then […]
And though the world be silhouette, the definition of thy lines holds more power than any vibrant memory. In each stroke I remember, each molecule of ink I feel. This is no random symmetry, no desperate thought reformed, but all I was and am and wish. Brush strokes on a canvas to you and she […]
Running through a dream eyes open.
￼ Scattered, we roamed the lowlands like seeds in the wind waiting for a smattering of soil and our roots to take hold; there was never nearly enough. Lifted from the homes we would have built, we searched the skies for memories of that which we’d lost, that which we’d forgotten: Home. The word echoed […]
Author’s Note: I’ve just spent five hours editing. It may have affected me. ￼ I floated in amniotic fluids, life bursting all around. Creatures of all kinds and all descriptions, some of which beggared belief, swam and dipped before me. Above, a sun ten times that of which I knew blazed down as I fought […]