The Glow Series: Carve a CityYou're good at this, Yal. I tell her for the umpteenth time. She does not show she has heard me. Maybe that is why she is so good. I sigh silently and check the street again. Still empty. Still shining in its sunset colours but it can not last for much longer.The Glow Series: Carve a City by Halohid
This city is designed to glow. The architects specified that every building be made with the same shining silver to catch and utilise the light. Sometimes it is blinding. Even now, with the sun a finger width from the horizon, I must shade my eyes.
If we are caught, the punishment will be extreme but the danger does not shake Yal's fingers. Of course she is aware of it but she is doing her job and she is good at it. She carved me, years ago and still today apprentices come to see it, to timidly ask if I might raise the hem of my shirt that they might gaze upon the work of those deli
To-Do List: April 201206-04-2012 Vodka petrolTo-Do List: April 2012 by meghan-solo
12-04-2012 It's fucked up that you're gone
12-04-2012 That was a group message, you are not a special little butterfly.
13-04-2012 Walk like a dog
13-04-2012 Drink the wine with the whisky
14-04-2012 I miss
18-04-2012 It's not all their fault, some of it is your fault too
18-04-2012 Ghost plane
18-04-2012 Relocate the emotion
18-04-2012 Chaos, mayhem and occasional beauty
22-04-2012 Everybody forget everything i ever said
24-04-2012 Fuck, where's the book?
25-04-2012 Who was i fucking in 2008?
26-04-2012 The girl with the dragon(fly) tattoo
26-04-2012 Hipsters have to exercise too, you know.
26-04-2012 Miso soup tea
26-04-2012 Almond, celery and tuna
26-04-2012 Watching a man get skinned alive on the train again
26-04-2012 They peeled away
28-04-2012 Would kill for a swing dancing partner right now
28-04-2012 Leaving messages on bathroom walls that you will never read
28-04-2012 Serial liker
PyromaniaI want to see a light show in ochre and dancersPyromania by birdsonqs
two thousand degrees in heat: I want to watch them
all traipse across my bedroom floor with their
encore in grey.
Blistered fingers flicking cigarette lighters
to see an orange pirouette turn for me,
my parents worry that I smell of smoke but they
don't know the reality.
The truth is that you can find me weaving
kerosene trails around the moon and Saturn's rings
telling acorns and oak leaves to enjoy our
favourite disease -
So I flick the lighter once again and speak
to the blackened walls and singed floors:
'Don't fear the kiss of the flame
don't let them douse the burns you reap
don't stop dancing, just don't stop dancing