Wordspill-Central

That night she laid there, on the wet grass counting the stars. She counted them one by one, because she thought they'd never leave her. Every night she'd do the same, she'd even wait for the clouds to move to count her friends, her only friends. To make sure they were still there for her. Not one missing. They were always there. They'd stay for the night, but when she woke up in the morning, no one would be there. So she'd wait for the night again, not sleeping, not dreaming. Her stars would be enough. Every night she counted them, stars would never leave. Stars would never let her down. That's what she thought.

is it wrong that i miss you? i know you're right beside me, how can you miss someone who isn't gone? i don't know, i only know i do. are you scared, honey? don't be. i'll feed from your fear, i'll grow stronger... you don't want me to be stronger (than you) i want to drink your soul in the finest crystal glass, it will look red. (just like the blood that used to pour from your bare arms) i   d o n ' t   s e e m   t o   g e t   e n o u g h   o f   y o u i want your heart, i want it to beat for me. i want you to feel like it

SPILL: There's a photograh in my wallet. I haven't taken it out in years, but I know what it looks like. The colors are faded, there are white lines through the image from being folded to fit. There are two girls with the same brown eyes and smiles. Sisters. The younger girl is being tackled by her sister, and her hair is in her face, but  you cans still see her frin. The older girlis hugging her sister like she won't see her again. She won't Sue, the elder of the two died about a week after that picture was taken. When Sue died, her sister cut off the hair that was in her face because it made her look less like Sue, and she didn't need even

Scrubbed Version It just had to be a cliché, didn't it? The hole in the ground, the shimmering depths of whatever mess I'd landed myself in this time. All you had to do was look at the thing, it's edges sparking with a amber-ish greeny purple, the crumbling anchor point little more than packed must and the squished remnants of beetle. Unfortunately for me, a shoddily made portal is still a multidimensional disaster waiting to happen and, even if it does look like something that Alice might have fallen down, is still my problem. The three hours of mandatory observation parsed with the usual flurry of paperwork and nervous fondling of as

I want to hold you, to carry you, to keep you, inside this burning fire of sizzling sentences, to later lay you down in a pool of calming waters where we can bathe in the moon's caress. Each waves rolling hold will pull us further out into a sea of possibility. Let me drown. Let me hold you closer to my body than even my soul can get        as         we               sink. You soothe my senses just before you burn them alive, and god damn you, I love the way your flame carri

June is the month of pleasure and pride the month where, by right, I should be with you. June is the month where your hair should be spilling over the collar of your jacket; where I should be the one holding you close There was a wind on the day we were last together there was a wind that did exactly what winds should do always I believe firmly that winds are made specifically to enhance your beauty There was a wind, and it stirred the sand, and the leaves of the trees, and your hair and it drove me to act impulsively for once and we got that kite, and tried it out and you couldn't stop watching the rainbow streamers

SPILL: The silence is deafening, b'riken only by the occasional passing car. Stars fill the sky above, but she can only remember three or four constellations she can see. A white puff f cigarette smoke issues from her lips, or would if there were enough light to see it by. As it is, there is only the orange glow of the cigarette, brightened then she drags on it. She inhales quickly, and forcefully, taking her frustration out on her own body. But it is not enough. The cigarette is soon burnied down to the filter, and she flings it awat, debating whetere or not to light another. She is fishing for the lighter in her pocket, the end of a second

There is beauty in having courage. The audacity to pack up, renew and start again. None of the wakeful eyes are watching as much as you feel that they do. You box yourself in and lust for what you shouldn't. Gliding around the errors you create Your hands are never clean But that's okay Few seldom are. You want to be fresh and fancy free Blessed with the opportunity for everyone to look the other way when you roll in your brand new sin. You want to have all the right moves in all the right places because you know the difference between mice and men. You used to stand amongst the giants. Dine with the Kings and Queens. What would you do now

SPILL: What’s always been a mystery to me is the identity of my maker. All Kiefer would ever say when I asked was that he wasn’t someone that anyone really liked and I’d tinkk he was an asshole. And I asked. A lot. Less and less as the yaers went by, but I still asked. I’ve got the feeling that I would know if I met him, but Kief ahs been fairly peoctective of that. And if any of what he’s said is true, I’m not entirely sure that I want to meet my maker. Well, either of them, but specifically the vampire one. The one who is responsible for my existence in general I can wait on. “Do I know you”

Holiday Spill: His heart was still pounding from the altercation he had that morning. He hated confrontation. But he had to do do his best to get the holiday lsot. Not susually a problem It wasn’t usually a problem. No one wanted to work on the holiday but the new guy seemed desperate for extra hours. It was annoying. He’d pressured him for a good ten minutes until he’d had to give in. He didn’t wat to make a scene. All day he brooded over the lost work. It wasn’t the pay for him. The overtime was nothing to him, but the access, the being at the crematorium was supremely important. It was his routine his sche