Fiction, prose


Now the dune crescendoed right in front of her. Had she climbed it? What side was she on? Did it matter? This weary could not answer.

Sifting it through her fingers, she couldn’t find the piece she was looking for. So she let that gentle wind catch them all instead.

She wrapped herself in the cool of the breeze. And when she woke, she smiled, for there was nothing left. Of this dune of memories.

Nothing, that is, but him.


personal, Uncategorizable

My heart is heavy.

I heard tonight from a good friend that one of their other friends (who I haven’t met) took their own life.

I tried to write something for anyone in that heart wrenching situation of debilitating loneliness, but the words didn’t come. Then I remembered this lovely piece of music by Enya’s sister from years ago. It holds no religious significance to me, I just love the beauty of it.



a little fun or something, General bewilderment, Poetry

charming rabbits

Leaning on the picket fence, (because,
they are so comfortable)

my mind handed myself a cup of tea,

the one labelled,
sagacious synaptic synergy.

I sipped on it soporifically

while cosied in the verdancy
of assumed medicinal verbiage

surrounding me.

My insecurity
ensconsing me,

in the vortex of a linguistic hurricane,

you know,
the ones like an old phone exchange.

A busy one.


Lots of.

The tea took its effect.

It lullabied
so perfectly.


(This used to be one of my favourite shows. And Katie’s voice. Wow.)

Fiction, prose

in the morning light

He flicked the ash out of the car window, and she knew that was the signal for her to continue. He thought he was good at pretending to listen, but she knew. When he did those long exhales he was thinking about something else, probably the zombie in his dream last night, the one distilled from the mirror that devoured him in slow motion, record time.
But she had sat on the floor, taking notes on her typewriter, writing him back into existence.

Damn, how he loved her.