Suddenly, as if it were injected into me, a thick black veil falls over me; I feel the black dog walking behind me. The black dog, the inescapable feeling that lingers in the recesses of my mind; the ever present feeling that follows me through life. Deeply rooted in the past, in my sadness and … Continue reading The Black Dog.
I am the designer, I am the architect; the one who creates the fabric in which the illusions of our mind dance before us. I am meta, I am the abstract; I am the rules of existence. I see the ends of stories before they begin; aware of the potentialities; how might they manifest? Observer … Continue reading The Tall Poppy.
Sometimes words escape me.
To feel is such a beautiful thing. Pain and joy are one and of the same; both are born from the same energy, and it is in the same space do we become aware of each. Both are born instantaneously, they are born of the ether, apparently apparating into existence. They appear and without notice … Continue reading The marionette.
What would ye say to the half-slain hero? Would thou house him, even for just a night? Doth thou have beer to quench his thirst? Perhaps a bed for him to rest his head, even just for a night? Innkeeper, please spare him a thought, for the half-slain hero is stuck between hell and highwater; … Continue reading The hero’s lullaby.
When I feel threatened I close up; I'm actually not that different to a small animal, except that I am definitely not small. My walls go up, and my forcefield is engaged. Away, away, pushing away; reflexively I push. I push to protect, I push to protect my belly, where my organs live. My heart … Continue reading D the A (Dylan the Armadillo)
There once was a princess, a young girl of only eighteen. And she lived in a palace where the grass was green and the trees offered her ripe fruits as she walked by. The palace was a place of provision, of safety, of life and of nourishment; there was just one problem... The princess was … Continue reading The Feudal Grip.