Tsoi Aai’s
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i trace bodies upon the ground and lie afloat within empty nail casings. wedged between wooden splinters, rusted and bound to sunken ships and hidden treasures that grave the brave men with stained fingers and soaked cloth. gun smoked the air with fire and shards of glass to the stars of night skies painting candy coated walls with hanging parcels. cling to them! the dead finger nails of demon...
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it stars with an adjustment to the rays of sun and light. a color chosen through genetic artist fingers, painting the world at an upside-down angle; reversed and reflected at a mirrors surface. a look back beyond history to find that god, too, is an artist. the iris created a false alignment of stars, as they fell to grounds that blanket our fallen hero and empty eyes. there, no trace of...
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The edge is where i dance, with lovers and arachnid souls. Where the dirt spoils the seed and the rain created of ashes from stars feed deep rooted Juniper tree, when a moment paused a picturesque memory in pixels. Where our love bestayed our unborn bodies, not of mind nor soul, upon the thought of which the world once lived as grasshopper and fireflies. There was a door. The corner where i...
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sleeping with eyes open wide. melted sheets trapped, becoming one with my bed and the dark shadow at my feet. surrounded by empty faces looking down at me in a panic trans, running through brain waves with no escape. in pain, i bleed the very blood that boils through my vein. pouncing heartattack. they are shadows, i am afraid. the pointing fingers no longer point at me but at the portraits...
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just an intro, i have made it my hobby to write short stories. as very few of you know i have trouble sleeping so in replace of this i write. stories based on my experiences with sleep paralysis. Imaginary. Created only by a restless mind set forth for destruction upon ones self. Lethargic, bloodied and bruised in pain, pour out through open wound beneath swelling eyes and ridge broken...