MoulinCool's profile

rainbows in diamonds and sea-coloured rings pink-lit skies where ants sit like kings edible soil and sun all around - the perfect place where nobody's bound the trees are orange and the grass is blue - a kind of place that is alive only to you adults do not know of such mysteries here they are subconsciously driven by simply their fears but still you lay for hour without end on silver buttons which scatter the hill while polka-dotted currents flow through bends cloud-gazing for pandas eating ...

 I clump my jacket sleeve into the palm of my hand and sweep it across my forehead, removing the sweat that has been forming across my brow. Stretching out my arm so the material hangs back comfortably, I glance down at the stitched acronym, “WWJD” (What Would Jesus Do), which is centered in a damp absorbed puddle of perspiration. Five days -one hundred and twenty hours, two thousand, eight hundred and eighty minutes- is the length of time that I have been walking for, stoppi...

It has been almost a year and a half since my fathers murder and almost four and a half years since the death of my mother. Have I recovered from either? Of course not. I still have the same reoccurring nightmare each night. Or, if I am lucky, every other night. Even whenever I think about the dream it is brought to life. Every sound, smell, happening… It is night. Its night but there is no luminescence given from the full moon on this dull September day. It is so cold that I can see t...

     It has been almost a year and a half since my fathers murder and almost four and a half years since the death of my mother. Have I recovered from either? Of course not. I still have the same reoccurring nightmare each night. Or, if I am lucky, every other night. Even whenever I think about the dream it is brought to life. Every sound, smell, happening…                It is night. Its night but there is no luminescence given fr...

Purple Love.   Love is on my wrist Carved in ink Forever permanent A reminder of happy Purple love is on my wrist Feel each letter on my skin Line by line Stroke by stroke To feel the past of pain Love was on my wrist Vein tangled background Cold as Winter’s morning Frost on the hearse Red on noses Bitter winds thrashing about Trailing with it Purple Love.