Devour

She is a Hungry woman. Her only way Is:
               Devour.

There isn't anything there when she opens the door to home.
There isn't anything there when she opens the door on outside.
She ate In.
She ate Out.



She saved some of her self for this,
The End.

Human Clock

www.humanclock.com/

GAME ONE:THE UNECESSARY

A Guessing Game.
There are 2 answers to either question:
1 widely dispersed        1 narrowly dispersed

Whisper answers to me  quietly    and think hard;
if you are wrong,
I can't be held responsible.
Now that you've read, you HAVE to PLAY.

What, below Man's knee,  is slowly receding only to one day disappear?

What, above Man's neck,  is quickly receding that one day soon will disappear?

The answers will arrive August 3rd. Final rule: only I can win.

Your Life Is Not Your Own

                         I'm sorry I hurt you, but you forced me to, You Must Admit.

Heightened

I have been blessed. A certain knowledge came to me. My limbs went numb. My future children stirred in the sky. A man's mouth bled. Some Thing took a bullet to the face. And I woke up.

                              It isn't Over.

Death Clock

http://www.deathclock.com/

Unhealthy Flowers

                                                NOTHING CAN LIVE THROUGH THIS                                             

Misnomer

A potato truck drove through a small town. It drove by many of the residents. The truck had no potatos inside. There was waste from an un named facility working with un named chemicals. The truck exhaled on these people. Five years later, a gross amount of them came down blind. Most could disern shapes, but not by the seventh year. 
That truck was only in town twenty minutes. The wide sightlessness was never traced to it. Never Ever.



Can you reconcile the image and the story?                        No?
Good.

David and His Father

Father: You hold on to your pain like it means something, like it's worth somethig. Well let me tell you: It's not worth shit. Let it go. Infinite possiblilities and all he can do is whine.


David: Well what am I supposed to do.


Father: Well what do you think-you can do anything, you lucky bastard. You're alive.What's a little pain compared to that.


David: It can't be so simple.

Father: What if it is.
 

I AM YOUR ORACLE.

                                             COME UNTO ME, LITTLE CHILDREN.

Ghosts in the Furniture

                     IT'S DEAD ARE NOT WOMEN OR MEN.


This narrative does not begin with a move or an earthquake. It begins on a Wednesday in September at 8:11 p.m.

I was thinking deeply of  a landscape I couldn't place, but felt such a horrible longing for.
Dark, clean rock as walls supporting a vast immobile lake. It was so deep-set and so thoroughly
kept within those solid blank walls that the place was almost windless. Almost lifeless. 
Without life, was it not a Dead place?                                                            I flipped the switch on the
coffee maker as I thought this last thought. It made sounds like cats vomiting and clocks ticking.
I waited for it to subside into dripping while I  sank in to my couch. Still thinking of: Eudoxia. 
That was the name of the lake. EUDOXIA. It's state, it's locale, still lost to me. At this thought, I 
found my chin on my chest with my spine curved profoundly to accommodate my position; falling 
backward in to the couch. It frightened me, as if I were leaving---and I didn't know I was going. 
It was a painful moment. I moved quickly, but stiffly to the coffee maker. How I should be so stiff
after such a brief...the clock read 11:41 pm. I have never been so startled. I didn't recall sleeping
or waking. 
The coffee was thick and unkind from it's houres on the burner. I drank it standing.






END TO OPENING SEQUENCE.