Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Zipped.

Monday morning. 7:30 am alarm. Jules tucked his big toe into the right slipper, slipped his little toe into the left, both on, headed for the john.

Marie had published herself. Lipstick on the mirror in hot pink. "It's over, babe. I'm gone."

"Pink is better than blood red any day. Fuck her," he thought, zipping up.

Plucked.

“Damned nose hairs.”

Frederick had learned that even the narrowest scissors were too gangly to control in a jungle nostril void. He traded blowing blood-accented geometric trimmings in cheap one-ply tissues for a more precise if tedious one-on-one approach. Then again, almost nothing hurt worse than yanking out an exposed nose hair—damned executive tear producer tweezers twinge.

“Who notices or even cares?”

But loneliness (or dread of it) hurt worse. So Frederick preened.

"Such Great Heights"

a beatific day had folded soft-edgedly into serene dusk. marc remembered travelling by train at dusk – the most perfect time to travel.

inky sky not born yet
tree-tips puncturing the fading-to-black canopy of night,
perhaps bleeding it of all colour.

he decided not to jump after all.

instead, he drove home to his lover who sat in a chair under a soft orange light with a book of poems. "read to me," he said.

Imbibed

A bribery of silence foreshadowed.

A toast to the high and mighty. A softening of reality. Sipped it makes for a rather annoying little wine. Brisk. Irritating to the palate. Titillating with a fine reminder of restless undertones to come.

Sighed. Served with cheese and I scream for counterbalance.

Her cigarette burned down to ashes.

Yes. I'll have another one.

stoked

A California expression, or at least that is the only place I have heard it from among the N*zi surfer crowd.

Sucker punched

I was too happy, too stoked myself to be working on the ocean. I had my California commercial fisherman's license and I was ready to set sail.

I never saw it coming. He was very good, an amateur boxer.

I should have heard it coming. I was being setup

A man of God started a mall. The town will fall apart unless they get a new spiritual leader. Red hair. Hurrah, another movie theater is built. Thanks, Guy Upstairs. The leader secretly hi-fives Buddha when no one is looking. I overheard the B-man saying "Religion is all just theory of beliefs" At which the leader scoffs. He stands in front of his flock he announces he knows the Way. To reduced price sneakers.

75 Words:

Somewhere I hear a rindinging sound. My head falls back as I burst out laughing, cheeks ripping open, stinking metallic soul pouring out of my mouth, tasting like blood. What I thought was my ego and is actually part of a much vaster thing, my Self, invades the world. I become Everything, I become God, and realise that I already was God.

After that, I make myself a cup of tea, and go to bed.

Hmmm

I aborted it last night. I had to.
It was just too big to contain. So I sat on the toilet, pushed and felt it stir within my pelvic floor. Slowly my skin started to tear and a long flap opened to reveal a large white rat, its long tail curled into its narrow confines. It dropped into the toilet and I wiped away the blood.
No one knew but Andrea.

Sophie's Choice

Spider woman was dressed all in black that day
She was amazed it looked just like a tiny baby.
Several days later with Golda Meir smiling down on me from her picture on the wall. Me on my back naked from the waist down. Snip snip. It was done.
Later I watched the blood seeping through my underwear & then I got down on my knees and prayed for sleep.

Magician Of Lublin