find your way home | keep on running
So beautiful lungs are, breathless! How calm, when the wrists proclaim
no pulse and the saint meets his maker in a laconic dark. What a clean murder.
A stillbirth from the outset, this Nestorian rhythm, these shattered pieces
of much-loved ikon which shattered so easily against the headboard.
The sheets smell of tea and roses, the breath on his neck so shallow with strain...
Perhaps, after a million and a half petits morts, he will have tasted enough
sweet poison to safely die of shame.
. . .
no pulse and the saint meets his maker in a laconic dark. What a clean murder.
A stillbirth from the outset, this Nestorian rhythm, these shattered pieces
of much-loved ikon which shattered so easily against the headboard.
The sheets smell of tea and roses, the breath on his neck so shallow with strain...
Perhaps, after a million and a half petits morts, he will have tasted enough
sweet poison to safely die of shame.
. . .
Word Count: 265 words. It's what I had, scribbled in the margins of physics notes and lying over top of last week's calculus. And even though I was supposed to begin on the 5th, I lose three days to insanity and the pretense of fencing. But here I am! At home, at last: avec laptop, tea, and the cat... in one of those dark, semi-expansive moods so conducive to writing tragedy. Of course I left my notebook back at university, but tonight I plan to be rather brilliant and Chekhovian and wing it.
Not even a school night - who needs sleep? Let's get this party started.
Not even a school night - who needs sleep? Let's get this party started.
- mood:
irritated - music:Will You Follow Me? by Rob Dougan
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excommunimoi- the one that got away
Comments
Ach, it sounds like rather a heavy NaNo--all in all. But its layers sound brilliant, and characteristically deep dreaming.
An impish challenge to you--five thousand words by Saturday. ^_^ And I'll send you something of my mangled manuscript--likely very little like a manuscript at all--if you send me an excerpt, da? Oy, assuming all is well and you're eating and sleeping, as well as NaNo'ing.
IMP
And the eating and sleeping is progressing rather well. I was half sure I'd be dead by now... Also, I just read your last Glib entry: writers would be extinct, I imagine, if there were no boring uni lectures. ^^