I take small bites, with speed all around the circumference,
What do I find beneath the skin and flesh?
Hope, victory, riches, escape?
Only the seeds of a disillusioned generation.
(translation)
Andrej’s existentialist apple poem:
The Gregor Trilogy (part 2)
The Journey Down
We watch Gregor Samson staring vacantly ahead as the elevator doors close in front of him. He remembers being somewhere else, somewhere familiar, eating his favourite dinner and settling-in for an entertaining evening of television. He remembers sitting in his beloved armchair penning red circles around a programme list, knitting together a schedule through until bedtime. Read more
rush hour conversation
Chloe and Emily have been friends for nearly three years, they flat share, both work for the university, and share the journey into work – in Emily’s car. Chloe isn’t a morning person, but Emily has gotten used to that.
“… so, what I am saying is this, that by observing ants closely, you’ll see they don’t do anything stupid,” Chloe said, “they always walk in orderly lines, carrying leaves, twigs and so forth, back to the nest.”
“Well not always, they sometimes fall off branches,” Emily interjected, looking left and right for an opening in the queue of traffic, “that doesn’t seem too clever.”
Read more
The Gregor Trilogy (part 1)
For All Your Worldly Sins
In fractional time, right before you expire, your soul flies out from your body and begins the journey heavenwards. If you could see yourself, you’d notice your eyes closed, your mouth agape. Naturally, you are without clothes. You are smoothed-out as you ascend, a gentle breeze flattening out wrinkles and your hair developing a beautiful lustre. The results, are pleasing.
Read more
glam hair
As a child aged six and savvy
Well-versed and knowledgeable
I insist on a haircut at the hair salon
“…the same as [insert name]”
A pop idol Read more
mr. clitherow’s gamble
Instead of a curved profile, rising from the case,
Each fairy cake had sunk in the middle.
“I told you not to open the oven door until they were ready!”
said Mrs. Clitherow, “Twenty minutes, a full twenty minutes!” Read more
when nothing’s inside your head (and you have no clue what to say)
Unsure if the darkened cafe is actually open,
You sweep inside and straight past the hosts,
Despite their earnest efforts to engage.
Princess Karoline calls you ‘dapper’ –
Referring to your outfit Read more
the joy of song (short story 3,443 words)
Section 1
Stood in his narrow kitchen, staring vacantly at the blister pack held between his fingers and thumb, the new pills – Johnson concluded, simply weren’t working. Like the ones he’d been placed on before, and the one’s before the one’s before. The same as always, his deep depression, chronic introversion and social anxiety paralysed him. This, despite the elapse of two years since his first prescribed treatment. Read more
birthday bed sheets (short story 1,571 words)
With some difficulty, Super Dan climbed in through the Police Commissioner’s fourth floor office window, displacing several ornaments and a dried flower arrangement onto the plush carpet.
“You called?” he said panting to catch his breath while pulling the long sleeves of his gloves back into place.
“Yes Dan Man! We need your help and also some of your assistance.” said the Police Commissioner.
“Hey, hold on! I’m Super Dan, not Dan Man.” Read more
and rightly so
This time around,
when an alert
notified
of an upcoming birthday
displayed across a calendar,
I felt no gratitude
for the reminder.
No,
Read more
