A Crime Revisited

The whiskey relaxed Joe. He could face the head now. Its hack marks said Bilinskii but he'd been in jail since '52.

He knocked back more, like your dad, the bloated face accused. Staring back, he suddenly thought, 'How old would Bilinskii kids be now?'

The dropped bottle rolled away.

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A muse on concrete

Grey nothingness…bland chaos…dull to the eye. Yet touch and call back the long dead of seas now fiery sand or with soft lips taste its sour tears. Bend down and smell the heat of summer when rain prayed for.

To us Mayflies it remains unheard as tomb silence.
 
 
 
 
 
 

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Love at a price

 It was your fault saying no.

'Temptation is my name...'

It pulled me into a fifth-rate synth house with useless mark 3's.  They can't even dreamcast, you have to fuck rubber and imagine.None were as good as you. I needed to change.

In my dreams now, you always say yes.

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Remains of the day

The slammed door told her go.

Outside, warmed by the morning sun, she saw again the snow dusted fields of the first time. The tearful promises wanting compassion.

Not this time.

She knew what he would wake up missing. He did say he wanted to stop being a cock.

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Memories

Alf always enjoyed dancing even after Annie's death he danced alone to scratchy 78s.The Warden was not happy at the 'disturbance' so Alf was forced to stop until Mary opposite noticed.

Then a knock on the wall let him dance as she made the Warden too busy to hear 'Got A Date With An Angel' She loved him enough to accept it would never be her.

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In the worse of times

'In other times, as the child was ripped from its womb, Wolfstan would have cheered at one less enemy. But slaughter gave no victor—'

‘Come again, but how is this Spamalot? Misery is so like epic fail.'

'Well, the baby tap-dances to Human League's "Don't You Want Me."

'Soooo random!'

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Until the light was gone

In the dank gloom, he saw Camelot.  It's a pile of old rocks,was all he could get Sally to say. Perhaps she was right.

Yet sword clanged on sword.Turning to kiss her, he said, 'Princess, it's what you make it.'

The silence told him, which was the fairy-story.

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