Sun hot, Day bright. Something's not, Quite right. Sitting here, drinking beer. Time wasted, Never fear. For time, Not wasted. Might mean beer, Never tasted. Perhaps not time best used, But the need of a mind abused.
Jimmy glanced back over his shoulder at Shan, dripping wet and shivering, before turning back to the cold hearth, swearing.
When I look inside, What do I see? No place to hide, Just me. Look at me, I am hidden. You can't see, The parts forbidden. What is Real, What is not? How to feel, About my thought. Can't you see through it all, Can't you help, lest I fall?
Ral kept his face-plate up, allowing the cool breeze to pull the sweat from his too young face. His enemies must have thought him mad. Perhaps they were right.
Ribs crunched beneath breastplate, screams of the dying echoed across the field filling Ral’s ears with sweet music. Music that he made, with the help of the other soldiers of course, but they were secondary. He was the artist, the choreographer that put it all together and made art.
A maniacal grin split Ral’s face as he pulled his shield back from the destroyed foe, only to sweep at the man with his longsword, taking the stunned, stumbling, faceless man just beneath the helm.
If we were having coffee, I’d say that it’s late and that I probably shouldn’t be drinking this as I raise cup to lip and take yet another sip. You would know that this is not the first time that I’ve indulged at too late an hour though, and tell me that I’ll be fine. And you’re probably right about that, by the way.
So, might I get you a cup of something? Coffee, tea, water, or juice? You may as well indulge with me, and follow me down the path of poor nighttime beverage decisions. Don’t worry, I’ll lead the way.
2017 is absolutely flying by. Weeks seem like days, days like minutes, and so on, and so on. I can say though, that the past week was a fairly good one as I did some of the things that I’ve been missing out on lately. Those things included writing a bit, strumming the ole guitar, running, and bike riding.
Sheets of rain, Across the roof. Hoping that, It's waterproof. For being wet, I don't mind. But in the proper, Place and time. Not in bed, Middle of night. Drips of head, Waking fright. For all things, A season. For that though, No reason.
Tess pulled her hair up, exposing the solar system adorning her neck. It was her favorite tattoo and fitting for her as it reflected the origin of her hippy parent’s given name, Planetes. The greek for planets, meaning wanderer. The word had described her parents perfectly. She wasn’t so sure that it fit her.
A mix of dirt and small gravel rock crunched a rhythm beneath her feet as she ran down the two lane road and past a newly sprouted corn field, before turning down a dusty dirt path strewn with brown pine needles. A mile in, she found her stride and her breathing matched up as she watched the evening sun sink into the forest before her. Not everything in Pleasantville was perfect, but this was. This was her sanctuary. The peace of an evening trail run. Now she wondered if that had changed. Had she lost that peace?