His hands do sweat a lot ( Read more... )

See those wisps, floating away ( Read more... )

He scribbled furiously; Fixed on ink and beats, with a side of mocha.

Where had it gone wrong, she wondered.

The café abuzz; coffee beans bubble; an order hollered, shuffling squeaky sneakers.

None by him.

She stared. Look up Finnegan, I’m out of coffee. I’m not hungry. That’s an interesting theory. Tell me more.

Let me in.Perhaps she should ( Read more... )

How fear and doubt grip thine chest so, to wrestle in thine ribs, corners upturned and bars rattled; Louder and louder it rings, lo the villagers pour forth to the square; “What is this that rouses us so?” and see they thy sickly countenance, thy sprouted rain, and thy harried breath; Thou turn’st to them, see they aught of thy that screams, that ( Read more... )

“Will he be coming today ( Read more... )

(collaboration between dmjewelle and axtarIn a nondescript cave at a nondescript jagged edge of a rocky mountain, a meditating monk wrung his hands into knots. Sweat trickled down his bald head, sliding past frenzied mutterings ( Read more... )

“HIV REACTIVE ( Read more... )