Walking towards you I feel
Like a robot chained in pain
Following a path programmed
For my copper limbs to climb
Walking towards you I feel
Like a fallen queen who lost
The battle for her own heart
Voiceless tower with no sound
You’re tearing me apart.
A rabid dog
Lashing on its bone.
Our love is gone Continue reading
Flapping wings fluttering about
Blackcurrant and raspberry bushes
Interwoven with weeds
Teeny-tiny ants treading around laid down cover,
Climbing on limbs
Human presence disturbed by Nature’s touch
Nature gaining ground
Humans pushing back Continue reading
I’m giving you space,
But you are taking so much,
It feels like escape. Continue reading
by Garry Vakarian
Department of Public Security, Homeland Surveillance Bureau.
Erased agents, a.ka Ghosts
A ghost is somebody or something that can move around and interact without being seen. However it can also be someone so insignificant to others that his/her actions go unnoticed. Both types are useful in our line of work, since they accomplish their task without public or media attention. In the bureau we call them Shadows rather than the official Erased Agent designation. The first kind uses it [the ability of being a ghost] to its advantage while the other is literally one, leaving nothing but an impression of déjà vu in people’s minds. Continue reading
Bodies asking and answering each other’s moves.
Heat rising, skins gently brushing, pressing.
Weightless figure floating, adjusting.
Hearts racing, skipping, aroused.
Muscles tensing and relaxing.
Gentle powerful crush,
Soft caress turns
Earthquakes. Continue reading
He was observing her. She was standing there preparing their supper, with the same enthusiasm she always applied to her daily tasks. Smooth and sculptural, grounded yet dreamy, soft and surprising. He knew he loved her still.
She looked unchanged. So unaware. How could she not notice the tension that was rising within him? He thought she knew him better than that, did she not? It was burning at his core now. He would not be able to hold it in much longer. Yet she was there, going about cheerfully. Singing softly. Improvising on the acoustic tune that was playing on the stereo. It felt as if she were a vision. She had come to visit him from their past. Transported. Transposed. Unaffected.
In his heart though, it felt like everything had changed. He felt heavy. Burdened. He wished he could just erase from his mind, what had happened last night. How useless! He could not even blame it on alcohol. He would not. He remembered everything. He was conscious of everything. He had felt everything. He was in control. He could still sense that foreign lingering touch on his skin. That scent. He forced himself to chase that residual image from his conscious mind.
He ought it to her, to them, to keep away from it.
He let his eyes wander over her body. Continue reading
by Hailie Andersen
He was working the clay, soaking it in water, making it soft. Preparing the base he would filter by hand. He knew his project would take months, but he had to do it. Surprise her. Win her father over. He had borrowed the supplies and the tools from his uncle, a maâlem**, who worked in a zillij factory in Fez. Continue reading