semi fictions

tinycup | letinycup@gmail.com

perel:

who did this to you???


Lately.

perel:

who did this to you???

Lately.

tinycup.net

Creative work is slowly but surely finding itself at the aforementioned .net address. Most brain leakage will remain on genoux. Thanks, imaginary boyfriend, for the cute coding.

Kbye

I take my wine jug out among the flowers
to drink alone, without friends.

I raise my cup to entice the moon.
That, and my shadow, makes us three.

But the moon doesn’t drink,
and my shadow silently follows.

I will travel with moon and shadow,
happy to the end of spring.

When I sing, the moon dances.
When I dance, my shadow dances, too.

We share life’s joys when sober.
Drunk, each goes a separate way.

Constant friends, although we wander,
we’ll meet again in the Milky Way.

Li Po

It’s amazing the clarity that comes to you in a half sleep. Giant red flags  slowly rolling out behind your eyelids like little satin seas, keeping you from eminently driving your happiness into the ground. Que, Otis. Keep your head down, shut your mouth, make or die. Steel yourself… save your heart. Everything is perfect.

It’s amazing the clarity that comes to you in a half sleep. Giant red flags slowly rolling out behind your eyelids like little satin seas, keeping you from eminently driving your happiness into the ground. Que, Otis. Keep your head down, shut your mouth, make or die. Steel yourself… save your heart. Everything is perfect.

or something

Unbeknownst to anyone but my dog, I’ve awoken in the middle of the night with a searing rage tearing through me. Twice now this week it has happened. What a strange thing to vibrate with such intensity over something as uncontrollable as a dream. I think distance is starting to play tricks on my subconscious. Between the hours of midnight and 4, my brain recites the worlds worst mad lib. Quick! Fill in the blanks with all of your impending thoughts of doom! Go!

*
The post card read: “I think of you when I’m not supposed to. Yesterday you were my radio.” The past is too dense of a sea for anyone to swim freely, especially when mixed with one that is not your own. All of the sudden you’re seeing things that never even happened, and downtrodden because now you’re convinced of their truth. Without even speaking you ask over and over about the brunette. Keep it up, kid, and you’ll be alone again. Hide all of the photographs. It isn’t getting any warmer.

I get my walls from my mother.

(Source: scotchandscones)

149 plays

novacane-cocaine:

Billie Holiday - Goodmorning Heartache

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