He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,even if he still collects it, reads it, saves it, treasures faded verses from his wife the way connoisseurs savor vinyl over metallic rainbows on disc.I don’t mind not knowing, but I can’t stand not asking.The record needle hits the groove wrong;he stumbles over words that aren’t there,rummaging for an answer he doesn’t really have.He doesn’t write poetry anymoreand his confusion is strangely endearing.But there’s a lyricism to his words that I love,poetic lines inserted between the daily grindof character names and who said what;voiceless boys in white a
More Conversations With Doci.“Have you heard any of the scripts on the radio yet?”“You keep asking me this Doc. I think you’re getting Alzheimer’s. I don’t listen to the radio, remember? And when I do, it’s the classic rock station.”“I would assume, if one is writing something to be on the radio, that one would start listening to the radio.”“I don’t think the college station broadcasts all the way to Benton anyway. Besides, I’ve already heard it.”“You know, Warren Zevon - he did Werewolves of London, you know that song?”“Yeah?”“You do?”
I Do Not Like To ThinkTrigger Warning: Cancer and grievingI do not like to think, that the last time I met you, over three years ago when I was fifteen, I remember more about managing to watch three series of Red Dwarf with my family in the car on the way to your house and back than about you.I do not like to think that I have never met my grandfathers and I have such a small family that five more deaths in the extended family means the reaper will be knocking on my own home door next ready to take those I live and breathe for.I do not like to think that, as I was talking to you all those years ago, the cancer was already starting to make you decay. You were
PoetryI am not a poet.I cannot make single words that do not belong together tell a story so achingly beautiful that it will make you cry or be sunshine appearing from behind the cloud of my own defenses to fill the world with warmth and force shadows to retreat or a list of things that summarise my life into neat little lessons because as you know, love; I never was good at lists.Poetry is so far from what I am use to it is like some wild animal, it's nature unknown and therefore terrifying to me, but I watch from afar and admire it's beauty, envy seeping bitterly in as I watched others take to it with ease.It was you who first told me to t
Fisheye Placebo Cosplay DerpsI had the honor of derping with these hilarious Fisheye Placebo cosplayers at Sakura-con!Good times. Good times.See you guys again at Fanime! ♥Frey, Alex, and Vance cosplayed by ~Shotalicious, ~Sugarlat, ~Liarino. I'm cameoing as rabbit ear fingers.And then I drew them XDJen and Cocoa by ~Haruu-chan and ~LeekFishART MAJORS FTWRobin and Toby copsplayed by ~usagi2ranpha and ~Little-islanderAlex has a plastic gun. Toby is going ARAFDHAJGJ. Robin is confused. Noting makes sense and all is right with the world.The level of maturity is overwhelming.They wanted to cosplay outerwear and underwear so they even made Vance and Frey's panties. Not only that, they also made extra ones for me to wear XDLast but not least, amazing cosplay and photography by *KashinoRei and ~Andy-K. They are in Germany so I wasn't able to meet them at Sakura-con, but hopefully I'll be able to visit a European con in the future
Bringing her HomeShe was wheelchair bound.Wrapped up in bandages and plasters with some bad-ass pain-killers and he was asking her if she was okay every ten minutes, constantly being completely careful, making sure to try to not even judder her too much in the chair, wrapping her in cotton wool and he would literally if he thought it would help.He sent a mass text.Ashton is finally home.This Saturday you may all visit. She may need naps and stuff if she gets tired, so just speak softly and don't mention what happened.Thank you all for the support and help.JeremyHe gave her warm tea she could drink from a straw, and carried her from her chair.He washed her and bathed her and clothed her and anything she would let him do or help with.He was there every second, at her side constantly, wanting on her hand and foot.
Sta.sh
's
