(Credit: Tim Etchells at

A veil of mist has been drawn over the city tonight.

Cold droplets settle on my face.

I should go home and sleep.

Neon signs scatter emeralds and rubies on the water.

I wish I could take the gems with me as restless legs carry me over the bridge.

I need sleep.

A murder of crows are emptying trashcans and fighting over the spoils.

They whisper their advice, but I know they don’t mean well.

I should sleep,

But my legs are still restless

And my thoughts won’t leave me alone.

An Empty Speech Bubble


(Credit: alierturk on DeviantArt)

I made an empty speech bubble

And tried to fill it with stars, I found swimming in a night sky.

But it was only a reflection in still water, which had tricked my eye,

And I slipped on the smooth stones.

Drenched, I shivered, as the cold gnawed at my bones.

And I tried again to fill the bubble, this time with fish wrung from my hair.

But they died, gasping for air,

And my shadow rose up behind me and laughed at me,

And my silly notions of filling the emptiness. ‘Like piss in the sea,’

It told me. ‘But the sea is full of life,’

I thought, as I cut the shadow from my feet with a knife

And stuffed it in my bubble.

New Fears



I was more than halfway home, when she was suddenly there in the middle of the forest path. The moon gave her dark hair a halo and let me see enough of her pleasing form to conclude that she was naked. I might have become aroused, were it not for her hands; Each had five long claws instead of fingers and the right one was dripping blood. In the periphery of my vision, I saw a man sized lump at the side of the path, but I could not tear my eyes away from her, and when she raised her red right hand and pointed straight at me, I knew that there could be no escape. I looked up into her eyes and there I saw flames from another world.

However, she did not choose to take me that night, she spread out black bat wings behind her and flew into the sky, and I went home in a daze, shivering and sweating profusely.

I sleepwalked through the next couple of days. When they asked me about the dead man I merely shook my head. When I woke up proper, I realized that all the fears and worries I used to have had been replaced with a woman with a red right hand and an inferno in her eyes.

An End



I kept Orion company and breathed the cool fragrances of the night. I watched the owl bring a mouse to her fluffy muppets. Distracted by their bobbing heads when their mother left, I did not notice the rose tinge on the horizon and the light blue seeping into the sky. Only when the first searing ray struck the top of the tree in front of me, was I reminded of how much earlier the sun rose each day.

I ran from his terrible face, crushing anemones, torn by brambles, my lungs burning in my chest reminding me what the sun could do to my flesh. Even though I strained my legs, the light strolled closer and my cave was still too far away. Sobbing, I raked my cheeks, why could the sun not sleep all year long?

Then I remembered an old badger’s den nearby. I turned and dashed towards it while the light crept towards the top of my head. I dived into the den, as the sun peeked over the hill and saw my left foot still outside. My foot burned and withered and I screamed and scrambled into the den as far as I could go. Whimpering, I pushed more dirt into the opening. Having blocked out the beautiful glare of the sun, I curled into a ball, trembling, and mourned the end of winter.

Sand and Heat

Night Blooming Cereus

The square houses have small windows and white walls which reflect the sun so effectively that the glare of the town is unbearable at midday. During the daylight hours only scorpions and snakes are strong enough to face the scorching rocks, but when the sun goes down, the moon lets her flowers bloom and the inhabitants come out to gather food and water. As the fragrance of the flowers spreads, the inhabitants sing songs praising the stars and the chill of the night while sweeping the sand out of their streets. When enough food has been gathered, they dance with flowing veils until the first drop of blood shows in the east at which time they retire and leave their streets to the drifting sands.

32 Night

The stars shine down on her and the frozen field beneath her feet. Small clouds drifting from her mouth, she stares towards the east. She stares and wishes with all her might that there will be another sunrise. She hopes her wishes will somehow affect the matter for the better.

Some might say that another sunrise was as probable as time passing, but seeing the clear starry moonless sky, the stiffened grass which can be broken off with a crunch and feeling the cold growing ever more intense, she is not so sure. And she feels that she has to do something, even if that something is only staring towards the east and hoping for the best. Because if she just stopped concentrating, if she just went home or did something else and there was never another sunrise, she would forever regret not doing the little she was able.

So she stands still, staring, hoping. And hopefully, another sunrise will come before she becomes as stiff as the frozen grass.


Every night I look down on their houses as they turn out their lights, and wish that my wings had never been clipped.  Sometimes I even wish that he had just let me fall, like the others. Instead of this hiding and clinging to stars.

I am so close to the sky. Sometimes I think that if I could just remember exactly how it was to soar through it, I would be able to again, and I could soar up, up all the way to heaven and then maybe he would…

Maybe he would strike me down,

Maybe clip my wings again.

Maybe he would just destroy me and have done with it.

Perhaps that would be better. To have it over and done with. But, where do angels go when they die?

I cling to my star.

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