pity poor god

 Sitting at an outside table
Listening to multiple chords
Of posturing
I just think, People

What a mistake that was
Next time I'll stop
With the bright and brilliant
Parrots on branches

Terminatrix

 It's been a weird night

I was walking down a side street in Ybor City, when this muscle car pulls up beside me in a hurry, and some guy leans across, screams out the bedroom window,

"Come with me if you want to live!!"

I thought about it a moment and said, 'What if I dont?", because ofc

He looked confused, and then called me by my deadname, crying out again "Come with me", so I grunted back 'Fuck off asshole", then a motorcylce screamed around the corner and the guy drove off.

The motorcycle screeched to a halt beside me, and then this asshole said,
"Sarah Connor?"

So I snarled "No! Fuck off! She's dead, you dick, she's been dead for years. I'm Stan Connor"

He looked puzzled, then rode off after the first guy.

Dunno what that was all about, not my worry..

Time Flies

Time flies when you're having nightmares
like a dying bird smashed against a window,
smearing down it,
eye rolling,
seeing strange
and alien shapes,
ideas unimaginable,
on the other side of
that pane 
of consciousness

Time trickles down the glass,
sticky sweet stolen blood
oozing out of you
stealing away your warmth,
stinking rotten copper 
in a cloud around you

Time falls.

Yeah, ALL the fun

One: Ears

 Sitting there, calmly, I hear a distant noise, just enough to rise above the constant surf sussuration in my ears. A mechanical clack, electronic hissing .. the sound of an old fashioned modem synching into a network, maybe? I freeze, hold my breath, trying to hear more, a direction, a sense of distance

Nothing

Now I realise, I froze. Not stopped moving, I'm damn frozen. I strain to move my right thumb at least, and strain again, but not a muscle tics.I try to release my breath, and that doesnt happen either

Damn, and damned

Drinking

All the days that have marched past,

ground their heels into my heart
and laid waste to my guts,

make me stare and remember
all the fine ideas and gossamer moments
drifting on my fingertips

Moments I should have seized
Madness I turned away from

just ashes in my mouth. Oh, no
actually that's Coke.

One: Hands

 Every time I reach my hand out, it drags a thousand shadows behind and before it.

Each action is undone as I do it. I can see my future behind me, and look forward to my past. Is there no way out of this?

Who is the sacrifice, this time? How many many times ? Is there no escape, again?

Breathe
Breathe
Accept what is and is not

Here is Time, a fractured toy stamped into the floor, pieces sprayed away. Stamped means a foot, that stamps. Who stamps, again, who breaks Time. Let's find out.

She stops, opens her eyes, looks up out of the page at the author and shakes her head. 'Dont be an idiot, it's the same one it always is, I know that much already'.

Two: Night Hawks

 The diner is empty, the late stars peering in the windows

Just three of them, slouched against the polished wooden counter, waiting.

The door puffs open, a ting from the bell; they glance around but noone comes in. They look at each other, shrug, and the woman picks up her handbag, fiddles with a cigarette pack, pulls one out and puts it to her lips

A blink, a flick of flame from nowhere, and the cigarette lights.

She recoils, and the two men snap their attention to her, the tall one knocking his hat off the counter. The air swirls across the counter from her, a small vortex for a moment, and she's there. She stares at each of them in turn, pinning them to the counter one by one, her eyes all laser and onyx, She smiles, thinly.

When she speaks, her mouth doesn't move, the air swirls another tiny vortex in front of her mouth, and the voice takes a deep contralto twang. "So, you can control yourselves, good. So, listen.

One job, three million. One target, this". The air shimmers over the counter, an image blinks into place, bluefire wrapped in blue tentacles, the shape of an egg.

"Where", grunts the short man, nasal and flat

She gestures, the blue egg shrinks onto a map laid behind it. "There, on the coast, the Broken House. Anyone can find it, anyone can enter. Make sure you emerge. Three days". She smiles her thin smile again and makes a gesture overhead, and whoosh, a swirl of air, the door puffs open again with that tinny ting of the bell.

The men glance around, "She likes her dramatic exits, alright" says the tall one. The short man nods, while the woman adjusts her red dress and smiles silently, feeling an invisible arm twine around her waist from behind.