Plum Sky

Casting a line off the edge of a barge micronation somewhere off the Adriatic, plum sky undulating like some childhood experiment with oil and water, and all of a sudden that seems so long ago, that 1990s childhood spent tinkering with PC parts, putting together your first computer, and now here you are thirty years later, in unclaimed waters, undisclosed location, starting some religion, maybe a country, you haven’t gotten that far, it isn’t clear yet, but it’ll be something different, whatever it is, so you return to these old practices and prepare the precepts for the initiates who will be here next day, their boat is coming in then and will promptly be destroyed upon their arrival, because there will be no need for transportation when everything they could possibly need is right here on this constructed island, when all of their needs can be met by the Almighty Godhead and all that he provides, on this barge that’s been assembled from the repurposed garbage floating aimlessly through the ocean, you’ve gone to great expense to have it collected, and you’ve studied all the major religions to make sure that you’re not treading over tired territory, that you haven’t accidentally plagiarized Zarathustra or anything, and you haven’t, not that you can tell, so you will now establish this colony in the ocean, this empire everlasting with yourself as omnipotent, omniscient, omnibenevolent leader who will rule for now and all of time, for you have teachings prepared on the nature of time, you’ve presented them to the internet and have been brutally ridiculed, but that’s the measure of a great idea, isn’t it, the ridicule of small-minded people, and that’s what convinced you that you were doing the right thing, convincing others to worship you as a god on a barge of garbage floating out in the ocean, this is what you’ve been working toward all your life, the unadulterated adulation of others, the drowning in their praise, happiness everlasting, it is all yours to take as you prepare your vestments you’ve created, a robe also made of reconstructed refuse, it still stinks even, but that is the last stink of the world to be washed clean from you, you’ve prepared the sermon, you can visualize the rite even now, with you and the others dipping into the ocean to rid yourselves of the scent of the world, to replace it with something unsmelled and unknown heretofore, it will be a glorious birth of a new state, a new state of mind and of being, you’re sure of it, or else you wouldn’t have sunk all your savings into this construction, wouldn’t have sold all of your things and left everyone you’ve ever loved behind, so you need to make something of that sacrifice, now, and here, you’re sure it will be worth it, so you look once more over that plum, undulating sky, that dark mass that will be either your salvation or damnation, and you sit on this barge, and you wait for the coming day, and you hope beyond hope that they will come.

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The Banjo and the Butterfly

I heard a banjo being played sweetly in one of the apartments above and closed my eyes and cried. I didn’t know why. Or maybe I did, maybe I was remembering a hilltop budding with flowers, my brain making the colors blaze in the retreating light, sending her skip down the hill in the blue Chinese dress I bought her in the shop in town, which hugs her hips and emphasizes her long black hair, making her laugh and bend down to pick a flower, hold it up to her white teeth, petals like pink egg shells, in turn firing a trillion crackling neurotransmitters which pour my complete being and the entire universe into the blood orange halo around her, a childless, desperate, beautiful, dangerous butterfly, wild and haunting like the great eastern wind who laughs again with her strong white teeth before popping the flower in her mouth and eating it.

100 Day Writing Challenge

Welp, I tried and failed, and we're all gonna die for our sins. All in a day's work

Weird timing today, I’m getting writing in whenever I have the chance.

First day of training. It’s pretty exciting to be surrounded by a bunch of audio geeks again. 706 more words

Stream Of Consciousness

All I ever wanted

And I didn’t know why but I was doing it to myself again, the big ‘ol sabotage of the century coming upon me like a slow car on the outside lane and BOOM I was under its control, unable to to slow down or alter course, careering through the strange days tearing pages off the calendar at frightening speed on my way to Armageddon, yes sir, I was good at this by now, I was was a master provider of circumstances to suit my evil plans and god only knows my desires were hard to fathom let alone accomplish. 210 more words

100 Day Writing Challenge

Just Thinking

A worm crawled into my bed last night. I shared my pillow, and this morning his desiccated form was stuck to the sheets. For sharing so much I thought him generous, yet naïve for thinking he could lead such a life. 253 more words


Soul Under Construction

I understood myself only after I destroyed myself. And only in the process of fixing myself, did I know who I really was.

– Sade Andria Zabala… 50 more words

Stream Of Consciousness


Within the depths of my contorted reflection,
a silent song that leads to the end of myself
lulls this one beneath the dream and into an abyss.