things without mouthsI found him at the back of the town hall, washing away graffiti that swirled in endless spirals and almost seemed to glow. He was straining to reach the highest curves of paint - I could hear his grunts from where I stood, twenty metres away. It was a warm afternoon and I’d just finished work, so I sat down to watch him for a little while, opening up a water bottle from my bag.things without mouths by Lychalis
While watching him work, I studied the man. It was difficult to tell exactly without seeing his face, but it didn’t look like the years had been kind to him. The skin of his hands and neck was mottled and worn, like crinkled paper. His hair was thinning and streaked with grey. The skin below looked almost transparent. It looked like removing the graffiti was tiring work, but he kept on wearing it away regardless. There was an almost tender care about his movements that kept them from seeming automatic.
Eventually he turned around, the wall cleared, and noticed me. “You’ve been sitting the
teddy bears in atlantisWe don’t see much down in the black depths. Our sight is only as good as the lights of our eyes. When we look around the darkness is peppered with our starlight - and us, standing like shadows behind them. Their light is shallow and dim, meant for looking at dials and things we need to fix. It is not meant for looking at our selves.teddy bears in atlantis by Lychalis
Warmth in heart and body are only words - we know their definitions, but we’ve never known what they can mean. We stay down here and hold back the chill of the sea from infecting the great spiraling city above our heads. We keep our charges warm - we don’t feel the warmth ourselves. We’re not even sure we can.
The base of the city is filled with large boilers, with pipes spreading from these iron suns like arteries. We and our selves man them, watch the pressure, the temperature, fix the pipes when they block and leak. Sometimes one breaks completely and it’s a challenge for us and the others as we all have to make sure their p
doorstep encountersElijah checked the sign of the road he'd walked into, 'Anne Bolyne's Walk'. He been asked to, no, told to flog his goods down this road. His goods were nothing special, just a bag full of umbrellas. He wasn't sure of the quality, but at £5 each they were probably overpriced.doorstep encounters by Lychalis
He sighed, hefting the bag of brollies further up onto his shoulders. He didn't even know why he'd taken the job. It was the last thing he wanted to be doing. It was the last thing he wanted to be doing, systematically knocking on every door and talking to complete strangers who were likely less than a word away from slamming the door in his face.
If his mum hadn't threatened to throw him out, he would've skipped the interview and gone straight back to paid surveys. It was pathetic. He was nearly thirty and still he had to physically drag himself to interviews, and everything like them. Elijah had never liked strangers, but when they were sat across from him, a friendly face with a distant manner, measuring h
not as easy as you thoughtMelding's easier than you'd have thought;not as easy as you thought by Lychalis
your sight will dim and tunnel on the screen -
wires burn your eyes, your head hits the keyboard.
Living on the web, your mind's a port -
before long, your computer will agree
melding's easier than we all thought.
When you wake up, your back feels like a cord -
a mess of copper wires you cannot see.
You're blind, those eyes were crushed by the keyboard.
Alarms will make you wish you could abort;
they ring inside your skull until you scream
'melding's not as easy as I thought!'
You have programs to run and files to sort -
a worm is found: it matches you, it seems
you don't belong; asleep on your keyboard.
Contain/delete/ignore? You shout ignore!
You, without control, marked for 'delete'.
Melding's not as easy as you thought -
your mind's a husk now, dead on your keyboard.
ScornHer restless heart cries, Love! I am here to be found,
Everywhere - here - following voices of all in Greece,
Yet from her mouth, there is no sound.
A fair nymph's merry voice once rung from sky to ground,
Until the cerulean-eyed Queen gave it cruel release –
Her restless heart cries, Love! I am here to be found.
And vainly she, swift of wind, silent of voice, follows round
Her beloved, who scorns her with lips of cerise –
Yet from her mouth there is no sound.
The wind carries her silent lament, for he himself is bound
To one who wears his scornful azure eyes and vain fleece;
Her restless heart cries, Love! I am here to be found.
Surely she knows Eros has struck her beloved's heart deftly around
with passion for a brook whose laugh slays a heart's peace.
Yet from her mouth there is no sound -
The fair flower, who holds Echo's heart, pines as a lover drowned
in longing, for the murmur of his river lover will not cease.
Her restless heart cries, Love! I am here to be
Anthropomorphism for BeginnersI found Grandma on the street today
reborn as a rock.
I didn't recognize her at first
without her turquoise-rim glasses
or her always-falling-out-in-public teeth;
she was standing in the gutter on her bald,
Mom tells me Grandma's gone to nag God into slaughtering spiders
and taking the farts out of vegetables,
but if you squint your eyes and tilt your head,
you can see Grandma's crooked nose--
the one that she broke
playing badminton last year--
and the way her eyes crinkle at the corners
when she talks about cheating
to beat me at checkers.
And it's just like Grandma to come back as a rock;
Mom's always called her a stubborn old crook,
and it looks like Grandma's holding a bag of stolen money
under her billowing Hippie-Days shirt sleeves
if you turn her just slightly to the right.
I think I'm gonna keep her in my bedroom.
Just in case.
Before they opened the door, Undine spoke up. “Do you know what I’d call you, were it my right to choose?” When Alice made no answer, they continued on unabated. “Marina. I think it’d be a good name.”
Alice thought for a moment. “Marina… But aren’t they tethered to the shore?” It seemed surprising, that Undine would harbour fascination for such a person.
“On the contrary.” Undine’s hand tightened on the doorknob. “I’d argue that they are more like gateways. “With nothing left to say, Undine opened the door and the two of them stepped through into the clouded daylight.A flurry of raindrops splattered through the open door, guided by the wind, and slowly began to soak the cupcakes that Alice and Undine had left behind - Alice’s half-eaten, Undine’s barely touched. Slowly, the glimmer of water spread across the plates and formed two shivering pools. The rain continued, unrelentless.
Poet by name,
pretentious by nature.
There's a novel in my chest:
split my ribs, pull it out,
have a read -
I hope you
name, strange creature.
Love you too much for words, Snubbs
- Blood Vow: A House of Night RPG
Current Residence: Sutton
Favourite genre of music: Alternative, Electronic
Operating System: Windows 7
MP3 player of choice: Ipod
Personal Quote: Insanity is a virtue.