like fireflies and phosphorescence

allow me a whinge…

Conceited Crusade


And these drugs, they’re murder on the brain. They mute the migraines, short circuit misfiring neurons, but, in return, I feel dull as a fax machine. My writing are copies of copies. I can still read, slow like an adolescent with ADD, but that’s better than nothing. Yesterday I was reading Bukowski’s War All The Time and I came across this quote—

‘In between the
life is such
a gentle habit’

— and I thought: Fuck me, there’s a slit of life between bad days, like fireflies you see only in the darkness outside cities, like phosphorescence swimming in the deep black sea.

art by Jarek Puczel

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About listentothebabe

writing is the teeth that gnaw on my bones.


  1. It’s the gist of what I wrote today. Are you happy? No I’m not asking you, that will be totally weird. But may be I am asking you- Are you happy? In my poem. Check it out.
    Like your comicstrips they are very intriguing indeed! ^_^

    Liked by 1 person

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