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Last FlowersFor you, this has become a routine. Like adding the one teaspoon of sugar and then stirring your coffee three times counter-clockwise and four times back. Like telling that passing stranger ‘bless you’ when their pesky soul tries to escape. Nothing more than a morning ritual, really, if you want to talk sentiment.Last Flowers
But when you want to talk legalities and emotional attachment, then, yeah, it starts to get a little icky. You’re kind of certain, though, that having been legally declared dead about two hundred years ago, by the time they figure out what’s happening, you’ll have up and escaped into freedom in
by ~cosmiclumpling
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DelilahHis partially numb fingers crept into his pocket, drumming idly on the cigarette box inside. It wasn’t raining. He almost wished it would – thought it should. It’s really rather anti-climatic, Walker thought lamely. Here I am, standing out here on the corner of a quaint little suburb watching my life fall apart and God can’t even conjure up a decent storm for me. Jesus. He extracted one of the little cancer-sticks and placed it to his lips. He didn’t bother to light it. The faint taste of tobacco on his tongue and in his lips was enough.Delilah
The night was dark and cold. Some time had passed; Walker didn’
by ~pinky-pants
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- Current Residence: Your pancreas.
- Interests: Now that is one fine lookin' coat you're wearin' there.
- Favourite genre of music: JAZZ.
- Website: http://www.myspace.com/cosmictrex
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