the death of a submarinethe death of a submarine Came too quick. the reactor, so Otherwise long-lived, might be a shame but for the Itinerant captain's mission, made complete. it sinks now, unconsciously, to rest for an age on the ocean's bed. the native port, Tentative, yet resigned to the U-boat's failure, snuffs her beacons and long-gracious wicks, and lays down her head against the Soft autumn twilight.the death of a submarine
'Though she leaves her radar Ever-running: there are more ships A'coming. the bubbling, torrid Reassurance: plenty more Ships a'coming.
Desert Ridge - working title"It isn't big enough," Quinn shouted above the machines and the heat. "Tear it down. Make it bigger."Desert Ridge - working title
He stole away into the shell doors as we stared up at the tower. Or monolith. Or obelisk. Or whatever the hell it was. Only Quinn knew for sure, Quinn and Haymes and Poul, though Haymes just a crotch sniffer, a brown nosing piece of you know what. And Poul? Poul was just a fuck with a gun and black gloves.
Haymes stuck around for a few minutes to talk to the foreman. He was an ink black man with an upper lip caught in a permanent snee
AfterwardsWhen the sunlight pierces your lids no matter how you turn your head, no matter how you cover your eyes, it gets hard to keep sleeping. So I didn’t. It was already morning, and the patio door invited the sun into my little world like an old friend, a freeloader. It reflected off the water in imitation of some horrible alien landscape: a place where men are cursed with two suns and the children hide under parasols when they go out to play. I sat up, if only to show those suns some measure of defiance. My mouth was cotton dry, and the taste there was somewhere between Rolling RocAfterwards
When the Watches Fell to EarthThey say that time waits for no man. In my way, this suits me.When the Watches Fell to Earth
But they sent watches into space, and the orbiting clocks were not the same as local ones, on mantles or in dens. And when the watches fell to earth like shooting stars or satellites, we learned this:
that the time up there differed so from the time down here.
There’s a theory too, I hear. A man named Albert, I think, penned it one night after dreaming a poet’s dream of immortal love or a madcap’s, of undying body. Queried I
nope
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[link]
Now kiss my converse!
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capitalism stole my virginity.
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lex
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My gallery
appreciate it so much!
see u,
Ilker
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"I'm like a person whose hands were kept numb, without sensation from the first moment of awareness--until one day the ability to feel is forced into them.
And I say: "Look! I have hands!" But the people all around me say: "What are hands?"
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Welcome to deviantART, where pretension meets the internet.
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Thanks a ton for the +fav on "Count the Stars."
It really means a lot to me that you liked it that much.
love,erin
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I'm just a lover looking for a stray heart.
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