She sees him from her window. He is a beautiful creature, a thing that will forever remain incomparable.

Her fingers trace a path against the condensed glass, engraving a pattern that he shall not be privy to. It occupies her mind with fantasies of escaping her evaporated cage, or roaming illicit halls with her clandestine lover. It is he who she looks down upon and intoxicates her mind with.

Thi...

It was stilted and jagged, a macabre dance that

you chose to engage in

without me.

You waltzed to your own rhythm as I stared blandly,

bared my teeth and blessed you

with a grin.

My body accompanied your silent ghost

as we moved as one, split by time.

I stumbled as you committed to the steps, immersed

in your own silent rhyme

of steps and an effeminate grace.

Face flushed, limbs trembling, ...

The two appeared to be inconsequential when scrutinised.

Two buildings bound by a structure that defied any concept of gravity. It was suspended there by a naïve practicality and voluntarily housed the Depraved and the Damned.

They were separated and compartmentalised by a system that they were not privy to.

It was a common understanding between them that one such party was engaged in decaden...

She knows she is characterised by displeasing textures.

Her demeanour has been derived from an origin of melodic laughter, crooked nails and crippling waves of thoughts. She likes to entertain herself with the belief that her outward projection represents a sanguine yellow, but she knows it resembles a muddy orange.

Perhaps this image of her is a product of her playful hair. It spirals out of a...

It immersed itself into the world with a feeble cry, as if it were acutely aware of its vulnerability. The eyes were shut against the morning's pallid light. It unconsciously exacerbated the mess of a creature that lay in the comfort of straw and grass.

Blood soaked its minute legs, and the fur was matted with texture from the mother's womb. The sight was garish, and it held no sentimentality or ...

I would never willingly describe myself as conceited, or having possessed a quality so demeaning as arrogance. It was not within my character to inflate myself, or position myself upon a pedestal, but it appeared to me that the arts were capable of conjuring such a thing inside of me.

My ego thrived off of the unexpected attention that surrounded my quaint, minute portrait. It depicted a woman, ...

Acrid tangs asphyxiate casual passers by,

their breaths oblivious to the poison that lingers

in their periphery.

Lights blaze, a fantastical odyssey of red, yellow

and the green of malice. They push and shove in the masses

until they become one collective throng. The heat from vehicles is tangible, tantamount to the anger that diffuses from bodies.

Buildings tower, a patriarchal display of ...

The hues of the landscape were blazing.

When mixed, they exuded a rich vitality that was comparable to the genesis of the sun and its light.

She didn’t come to comprehend this during her pilgrimage across the expanse of land.

Her mind had become too abstract; all rationality had now been discarded in favour of the colours before her.

It seemed as if her odyssey to this acute corner of the gr...

Red, rich. Streaming across a black sky, dark

creeping in from all corners, an invite

to play. To flee from the killer, a stark

warning to run before his teeth maim, bite

as the blood drips down her neck, warm. It’s wet,

she imagines, an alluring mark of

beauty, pain. She is desperate to bet on

the malice in his eyes, a pledge of love

turned dangerous, cold. Her body stops, still.

He treads, snar...

It was meant to be melancholy, black,

stained with the tears of those in mourning of

the girl before them. She gave them a pact

to keep breathing, keep smiling through the pain

but she didn’t. They gathered, feeling their

acidic tears burning their cheeks, no gain

to be made from mourning the loss of her.

They wanted to be grey, black, devoid of

colour but a splash of red, orange. Bird.

Why ...