AccompanimentMark looked towards the knocking and away from “Resume Do’s and Don’ts.” “Just a minute,” he called as he rose off the couch. He walked out of the lounge and into the kitchen, where the front door to his apartment stood. He held his breath, as if sneaking up on the door, and looked through the peephole.Accompaniment
Mark was surprised to see a girl about his age. She was thin and wearing a white tank-top that clung to her. Her exposed upper arms showed a faint farmer’s tan. She turned away from the hall, her face towards the door. Straight brown hair stopped just past her jaw line. Her nose was pierced, not the little stud a lot of youn
Creative Writing Part 2Mother AtrophyCreative Writing Part 2
along the sand there walks a bitterling: temptation. she stands against the surf littered
with empty syllables, repeated vows of
compliance to your bases. her misformed image suits your taste, and arrives to your misformed expectations. the waves are beckoning. dark blankets cover pullings, and yearnings.
a gaze dissolves your barriers of shallow repent, ebbing guilt ‘till it crashes around your ears, roaring secrets
long pacified.
the flicker is gone, a limited
warranty on faulty ambition,
plan
Creative Poetry 1The Prime Constituents of a Corporate Porn StarCreative Poetry 1
He sits at a desk,
In his four-cornered reality placebo. He, the product of another age,
Vendor of anachronisms, A relic of ancient understatement, Clouds into a mass of sedimentary longing. With mixed contempt his associates chime, “If we had a filter, we could separate him.” We could strain out his paycheck,
Boil away his bachelor degree and steady girl,
Desalinize poker-Fridays and re-run Wednesdays. What would be left? Carbon, glucose, fructose, fucktose,
Little white lies, calculated affai
The best works are a product of laziness?
