Thoughts from the back of a notebook, from beneath the Game of Thrones castle, from beneath a statue in Croatia, from an airport in the UK, from a lake in Slovenia.
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Days spent walking, nights spent bitter, moments spent thinking about the girl from the airplane…a long short story or a short novela, you decide. Some dark tale, written in a little black notebook while backpacking and hitch hiking through Croatia and Slovenia. Stories of walking and isolation and the ceaseless burden of darkness weighing about the neck of a boy who has seen too much.
Thoughts from a notebook, an ongoing series without rhyme, without reason, written in the back of notebooks, on bar napkins, in the echoing loneliness of a broken heart.
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I often write words down on bar napkins, receipts, the palms of my hand, in the back of notebooks. They are random, in different styles, of different emotions. I am going to start a series, sharing these words, in their true fashion. They may not match, one may be poetic and another may be merely a description, but they are all part of me. I hope you enjoy
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A new story time. A dark, urban fantasy.
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words are coming
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Usually crowds and tourists and hammering voices turn my heart sour and my tongue snapping. Today the moody sky and the little shivers running up my legs cool my skin, it’s as if the clouds are competing with me to be the grumpiest kid on the block. Darkness taps me on the shoulder and offers me a view through the veil.
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It’s been a while. It’s been a while. These voices pierce my veins. These words leak into my bloodstream. You’ve been a while. You’ve been a while. These feelings flood my chest. These thoughts leave my head.
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In the grey twilight I stand beneath giants.
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I stay up late and watch movies, just to feel something. My guilty pleasures are broken characters, lost loves, and small hopes, rolled into an hour and a half of an emotional roller coaster
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I breathe in the velvet smooth of the dark until it consumes me, fills me up in endless shades of cool.
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I stood beneath a sky so dark it broke against my bones in waves of midnight flowers. The air pressed against my skin as a low rumble of thunder rolled across the wasteland of my heart. Inside of the storm was the lifeless beating of a broken heart.
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A story about loving stories and the dark of the night. A story about a passion for pretty words and magical moments lost in the forest. A story about Fae creatures and wishing one could believe…
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The woods were dappled, dark and grey, overcast like the light in my eyes. I stepped through the cold, my feet stumbling on patches of ice growing from the forest floor.
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Photos from Austria
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My trip through Indonesia in snapshots. People, places, memories…
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In the darkness I trail my hand along soft walls, brushed smooth with striking colors, muted by twilight. Each step brings me closer to you, to the memories left cold and aching in my head. I wander into the darkness, letting the cool shadow press against my tired flesh.
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I sat in the grass, feeling the sun touch my skin with warm fingers. It reminded me of you.
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I lean against the rails, waiting for the sun to rise. I seem to do that so often these days, watching the waxing light through half-lidded eyes. This morning though is warmer than the last, and I watch the world brighten without a shiver.
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My skin tastes like salt. I can still feel the ocean kissing me as I drift beneath it’s surface. It breathes in my veins, rocks my heart with the swell of the waves. I stare into your eyes and think of home, of those last few seconds of air pounding angrily at my chest.
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