Anomaly is a Decision!

He had loved her as the last manifestations of innocence in a world of depreciating preservatives. The smell of a few rotten nostalgias. Mutilating. Bacteria. She blinked her eyes like a child when she didn’t understand a thing. And oh! For the beauty of it he’d wish she’d understand nothing he ever told or did.

When the wars called him again, all he wished to take from the town was one blink of her eyes. Carefully concealed. But this time she understood. She won’t blink again like darkness would for him, evermore.

Are You Afraid of Me, Child?

[A Prayer for those we forgot to invite to the Christmas Celebrations, yet again.]

Someone had whispered a scream in my ears. Its fragrance lingered like a sunflower in a wintry dusk. Like a fallacy. When music came we transformed it to a sonata and planted it in a flower pot.

Our life was a radio station that played Gothic music, forever, after we lived.

The First Gun

And still they lingered on her lips. The children. The tale of those who were lost with their fading childhood. Reproduction was an exact name. A re-creation of their childhood. A restoration of selves. A wooden plank on the river bed. Flowing. Empty.

After their mother had kissed them, they had ran outside with with the wooden plank.