Phantasmagoria's profile

I walk home tonight through a town painted blue. The sun has gone down. Not in a fiery, red blaze of glory, but nonchalantly, allowing the blue ink of the sky to darken and diffuse down onto the town. The streetlights try to blare out their orange and are quickly smothered and nullified by the blue. It’s only a short walk home from the station. I think it calls for some loud music. My mp3 player is navigated thus: ‘genre’ -> ‘rock’ -> ‘play all’ as I set off down the hill. The music acc...

It has been brought to my attention that I touch things to much. So I gave this some thought and compiled a list of the day's touches. * There is a groove in my desk and when I think I run my index finger up and down it. I build up such a rhythm and pressure that I am surprised that the desk doesn't begin to sing with the resonance the way a wineglass would. * I bite my nails; the edges are rough. When I run my finger ends up and down the seatbelt the rough nails catch and crackle on the fibr...

It's been out there, in our yard, for three days now. For three days now I've held myself back, but tomorrow, I will go outside and eat compost. I will make two cuts in the bag, meeting at a right angle. I will make these cuts with a filleting knife taken from the kitchen drawer. The cut flap will roll back to reveal compost. Rich, heady scented compost. Dirt is just dirty, soil has been adulterated and mud is unattractive in consistency. Compost is clean and pure. Decomposition, rotting, the...

white flowers drift on the green soft words stem the blood flow avert my eyes from what I have seen he said no one has to know keep your pure innocent silence a veil to hide your immoral soul seething with young passionate violence wishing for someone to make you whole a life for a life, a kiss for a kiss this bitter kiss is sweet as death I can't believe you made me into this a rotted love is all I have left body and blood have gone to nothing don't tell, that I made my bed in your coffin