A Mind in Motion

     The first time they filled the air around them had been on the battlefield as they crashed against one another from opposing sides. Blades sparked, skin perspired, muscles flexed and eyes devoured emotions bursting forth like clouds of chaos. Teeth rattled with their amor and words sliced where swords could not, but their hearts echoed in rhythm as they recognized a tether between them.      Through the haze of war, their Lust turned from Blood to Passion and their lips swore to meet again.      The second time was in the dead of night--the air so chilled their breaths billowed like ghosts as they met secretly beneath woodland stars. Shy lips were emboldened by the heresy they were creating, so they filled the cracks within one another--shaping and shifting Passion into Love .      The third time was a knife to the Soul for them both.       Fire danced around them, keeping them divided by the t...

     I don't know what's going on,  I must have gotten' some bad shit, Alice is often a wrong hit.      All I see is breaking down. No queen for me, let her be, I'll take your frown without the crown.      No crows, no feet, no rabbit's teeth, A bottle of hearts, a mushroom tart,      Just a jar, and a game of cards. The walrus, the cat, a courtroom packed.      The Hatter promised, I'm being honest. I didn't know, I wasn't alone.      He said it was tea, just for me, But obviously it wasn't, it's very unpleasant.      I don't know what's going on, I must have gotten' some bad shit, Alice is often a wrong hit.

     The storm raged on around them, encouraging rolling waves to thrash about as if they were dancing to the torrent of emotions spilling across the distance Between Shore and Sea . Words whipped and echoed like arrows across the tides, inflaming sun tanned cheeks and pale skin with blood red passion.      It was to have been a simple affair--no heart and all body.      But as the being had come ashore in the dead of night what felt like a lifetime ago--and settled its charcoal eyes on a beauty carved from mortal flesh and bone watching the stars in wonder--it had felt a daunting pull that spoke of white hot heat and doom.      From that moment forward they had spun a web of Emerald Longing and Golden Wonder around themselves as their bodies twined again and again. By dawn on that very first morning they were unable to draw themselves apart, so they had stayed cocooned, nestled in a world of damp wood, soft sheets and the...

     I've been digging my way out, so much dirt between my fingers, blood streaming down my face.      You'll be sorry for this, I guarantee it.      I will be the one to cast doubt, they'll finally see the true deceiver, and it will be the seal on your fate.      You'll learn repentance, I'll fucking see to it.      I can see your paltry face now, pretending you care with your false demeanor, the swaying of your rosary faking your grace.      You'll never know heaven, there are no demons in it.      There are crimes to take into account, even immortals must pay the holy reaper, an offering of sacrifice must be made.      So take head of the church bells seven, I'm about to start this shit.      Because I'm digging my way out, there's no more dirt beneath this revealer, no more blood in my way.      You'll be sorry for this, I gua...

     There are those that flutter to the bright lights of others. They crave their warmth, their bold, wild spirit--and dance around them, no matter the risk to their personal self.      But there are others, those that are a flicker as well, and they flutter to the sparks of internal combustion --not to hover around them, but to merge with them, to experience their consuming existent.      In the end, they either dissolve into something cohesively new, or tear pieces of each other apart until they leave cinders in their wake.       "I am not a moth. I am a flame seeking to dance with other flames..."

     It was a Tickling Sensation that pulled him from the murky depths of slumber.      Just a slight scratching, a tingling against the back of this throat.      Eyes still closed, he tightened the heavy muscles in his chest and cleared his throat, a wet gurgling bubbling up as he did so--hitting the back of his tongue in sticky acidic warmth.      His brow furrowed as a burning sensation quickly followed, up from his mouth as if it was gas, into his nose--forcing him to take air in deeply and exhale it back out in tiny puffs.      It only worsened though, finally encouraging him to open his sleep crusted eyes.      There was nothing worse than trying to bring yourself into consciousness after a chemically induced sleep. The fog in your brain is so thick, and your body is so sluggish and weighted, you get stuck in this lull between being hyper aware of your surrounding and still feeling like...

     There are secrets even the world cannot express but in the merest whispers--haunting truths that carry heartstrings with them across time, space, and the particles between. These unraveling mysteries phantom themselves into our lives--they pass us in the street, sit beside us in the park, or become an integral part of our being.      They are The Drifters , people who have been lost to the spell of existing in the folds of reality.      You know them, have felt the hair rise on your arms in their presence, breathed in their unnatural air with puzzlement and fascination--and you have loved them and lost them.      We call them lovers, mothers, brothers, sisters, fathers, children and strangers. Their eyes sparkle, their smiles beam, and their hearts soar with such awe that we firmly believe they should be sailing in the skies on strong feathered wings than planted firmly on soil with rooted trees. It is no wonder ...