Reaching OutThe darkness leaches around me looking for something to sink its claws into. To draw from. My whole body trembles with a yearning for life. Not for blood, but for spirit. The other part of me that is no longer human but a growing immortal calls to every part of my being. It pulls at all my resistance. For now I have none. I am still the pawn I was in life only dead. Now with suspended immortality that can be easily revoked, I suffer paying its price. I now hold a craving need that drains away all my sanity.
It pulls until I am only a wavering shadow of the person I once was, now overrun with the minds of them. Each spirit yearning for freedom as my much as my own. Wanting to breathe and feel, if only once. I snap out if this dark demise of the mind as everything in me suddenly strains with the feeling of being drawn forward.
The final spirit to freedom.
There is no wavering thought that brings doubt of it being anything else. I sense every part of me reaching out for this one sp
The RomanceIt happened that on midsummer day, when the sun was streaming down from cloudless skies and all the birds rejoiced for the beauty of the season, that Sir Esforcer took his leave of King Arthur, citing a need for adventure. This was most willingly granted, and the brave Knight rode from the castle as the sun began its journey back to the horizon.
Taking the main road west, Sir Esforcer admired the villages and farms he came through and graciously thanked the adoring populace for all their offerings of refreshment and rest. He declined the latter, however, telling all that he was determined to seek out adventure in the distant lands.
As the cloudless day faded into starry night, he saw a strange and uneven path winding into the forest on his left hand side. It was partially blocked by branches and rutted from many bad winters. He turned his horse and took the strange route, pushing into the forest and giving thanks for the bright moon lighting his way.
As he began to consider stopping to
DuetSeattle is iconic for the Space Needle, but it's famous for two things: Starbucks and rain. Pike Place Public Market boasts no less than fourteen distinct coffee shops. Some of them serve coffee and tea and baked goods; some branch out further into sandwiches and soups; a few even dare call themselves restaurants. It is one reason I adore the Market; it has retained the individuality that small businesses are supposed to exude.
The crumpled and folded bills littering the inside of my saxophone case certainly add to my love of the place. I come here every Saturday afternoon, for the acoustics, but some think I'm good enough to pay for the pleasure of hearing me toot my horn. And it is a pleasure. There's nothing quite as satisfying as squealing past the high C before dipping down to an F only to start the wave all over again. But that's hardly the point. I come to feel the press of bodies and voices, and to let music loose on wandering souls.
My apartment on the waterfront is comfortabl
|Critiques i have given out|
At the edge looking out.
A fall as deep as creation itself.
No light on the horizon.
Forced forward by the tip of a sword.
The end is near.
Long to write, Desire to be great! any tips suggestions and comments to aid this goal will be greatly appreciated|
Favourite style of art: optical illusions
Personal Quote: if hell were cold and i'd be bold i'd stride right through before i'm old