

:watching: AmyHer legs are a voice:watching: Amy
as much as a vessel.
They speak a thousand ambling thoughts
as she falls toward her destination,
caught a moment later on those
careless,
purposeful limbs.
Her arms say less, but with equal fervour.
A hand drifts out
to adjust the wares upon the shelf with patient guile,
a comment whispered from the back of an auditorium,
only to retreat to her chest,
fingers tittering hushedly beneath her chin.
She considers the shelf at length,
perhaps waiting for the echo
to reach her up
Workstation

GreyRain would be a blessing. Instead, it is groggy. The sky outside my window is the same smoke grey as the buildings it looms over, threatening to cleanse it but never spilling a single tear. Even the streets reflect its austere gaze. Grey, grey, grey. I smirk into my grey tea. Earl Grey, not the colour. Still, it amuses me on a day that presents little of amusement, and it warms me on a day that feels chill despite the muggy autumn air. I share the warmth, a slow, deep exhale over my cup, and it collects on the glass in front of me in a fine, powder grey mist.Grey
I watch grey suits move this way and that along the sidewalk below, the


A twice-opened woundMy mind went to war today, that altruist wouldnt carry anything but a candle and a book. That fool.A twice-opened wound
The enemy sent a single phalanx with spear and shield seemingly just as foolish and a thousand times more so.
The fight had been fought a thousand times and more and each time
the spear tore the book asunder the shield snuffed out the candle
But today was different.
The phalanx weary beaten no, chosen by a valkyrie died.
My mind went to war today against my beat

Previous Page12345...Next Page