Our words are alive
our verbs have pulses
and our nouns have breath
our adjectives sweat in the sun
adverbs can even bleed to death
my punctuation has a hard-on
look !
Whoring myself
My 200th post is looming and I want to whore it out, to you, to be your bitch. I want to write whatever you suggest in the comments. I will do the first one and the naughtiest one. Try not to be kind to me please.
Metaphorically speaking of course
I’m a writer darling,
You can’t trust anything I say,
Like a magician
But not as clever,
But with a bigger cock.
you cannot think your way out of a writing block, someone said to me, but you can write your way out of a thinking block
There is a small village somewhere, somewhen. One of those simple villages that have been around since long before the big cities and will still be around long after the cities and their gleaming towers will have crumbled into dust, In the centre of the village sits an old lady and a small child. The old lady is telling the child a story, it is the oldest story in the world, it is the story of the world, and how it came to be. If I remember correctly, it goes something like this:
In the begining the world was empty and grey and there was no life, not a leaf, not a frog, not a sausage. The only things to exist were two stone giants, called Wassisface and Wassername, and they stood like gods at either ends of the earth. Now, these giants were so enormously tall that they could…
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kyle mew 