Posts Tagged: art

all that remains is the smell of orange 

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
art by geoff mcfetridge She counts the chairs in our dining room, one, two, three, four, five, six. She points to each chair as if unconvinced, her brow furrowed in concern. She circles the dining table…

all that remains is the smell of orange 

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
art by geoff mcfetridge She counts the chairs in our dining room, one, two, three, four, five, six. She points to each chair as if unconvinced, her brow furrowed in concern. She circles the dining table…

six word story no. 35

the absence of angst startled her.

six word story no. 35

the absence of angst startled her.

/ art

“all I want in life is to be eaten by a tiger”

Originally posted on sarahgoodreau:
a man wrestled a tiger and won. over a post match glass of sherry the man confessed he had wanted to lose. “all I want in life is to be eaten by a tiger”, he said.

/ art

“all I want in life is to be eaten by a tiger”

Originally posted on sarahgoodreau:
a man wrestled a tiger and won. over a post match glass of sherry the man confessed he had wanted to lose. “all I want in life is to be eaten by a tiger”, he said.

the butterfly collector

Here’s the link to my latest flash fiction on Hijacked Amygdala.  It’s about infidelity, the least original of sins. Also have a look at brilliant art and poetry from Anna Spoon. It blows the mind.   the butterfly collector It

the butterfly collector

Here’s the link to my latest flash fiction on Hijacked Amygdala.  It’s about infidelity, the least original of sins. Also have a look at brilliant art and poetry from Anna Spoon. It blows the mind.   the butterfly collector It

saturn return

The inconvenient thing about rebirth is the lack of space. There’s a mess of tangled legs behind my rib cage– the old me that’s no longer funny, no longer charming without a gin and tonic in hand, and one or

saturn return

The inconvenient thing about rebirth is the lack of space. There’s a mess of tangled legs behind my rib cage– the old me that’s no longer funny, no longer charming without a gin and tonic in hand, and one or

ernesto

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
art by deger bakir You wore a skirt, it was purple, a favourite, its lace fringe limp against your brown thighs. And a pink translucent blouse, the top buttons undone from which a crucified Jesus…

ernesto

Originally posted on hijacked amygdala:
art by deger bakir You wore a skirt, it was purple, a favourite, its lace fringe limp against your brown thighs. And a pink translucent blouse, the top buttons undone from which a crucified Jesus…

it takes half an hour to get home

She slides her feet forward so her scarred limbs stretch between the legs of standing passengers.

it takes half an hour to get home

She slides her feet forward so her scarred limbs stretch between the legs of standing passengers.

correspondence 17.6.16

  From: Babe <listentothebabe@mail.com> To: Gordon Flanders <gordonflanders@mail.com> Date: Friday, June 17, 2016 at 9:39 AM Subject: the way the rain smells Dear G I’ve been waiting for the rains to come since early May. The locals say that this

correspondence 17.6.16

  From: Babe <listentothebabe@mail.com> To: Gordon Flanders <gordonflanders@mail.com> Date: Friday, June 17, 2016 at 9:39 AM Subject: the way the rain smells Dear G I’ve been waiting for the rains to come since early May. The locals say that this

dead things

Dead Things: My flash fiction piece for the week on Hijacked Amygdala. Proceed with caution.

dead things

Dead Things: My flash fiction piece for the week on Hijacked Amygdala. Proceed with caution.

atomic love

your effect on me i don’t recognise myself gravity died when you rejigged my molecules i breathe in your atmosphere.

atomic love

your effect on me i don’t recognise myself gravity died when you rejigged my molecules i breathe in your atmosphere.

the local

You had not spoken to anyone in weeks. Nothing of any consequence beyond the polite thank you, keep the change, I’d like a cappuccino please. These interactions were your only connection to the world, the only proof you still existed,

the local

You had not spoken to anyone in weeks. Nothing of any consequence beyond the polite thank you, keep the change, I’d like a cappuccino please. These interactions were your only connection to the world, the only proof you still existed,

mum said there were no monsters

but they came out from under fitted sheets,
unhooked themselves from steel
hangers,
the ironing board that slipped out of a little cupboard,
mouthed
lyrics to Michael Jackson
when he was black

mum said there were no monsters

but they came out from under fitted sheets,
unhooked themselves from steel
hangers,
the ironing board that slipped out of a little cupboard,
mouthed
lyrics to Michael Jackson
when he was black

six word story no. 33

until gravity pulls me back together.

six word story no. 33

until gravity pulls me back together.