Comments Posted By biscuitmensch
Displaying 1 To 15 Of 15 Comments
the steaks are too high, was the punchline. but there’s no meat on that joke.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 01.30.2012 @ 9:59 am
the way she used to wear her hair: ridiculously outmoded, by decades, but she liked to look strange. she lived off people’s sideways glances at bus-stops and bakeries. she wore her hair up for the same reason she wore red boots, and honestly, for the same reason she wore me.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 01.26.2012 @ 4:32 am
deep and thoaty, the voice of a bull from the mouth of a man, he shouted. we shook.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 01.16.2012 @ 3:57 pm
fish oil, that’s the smell i remember. a broken food supplement pill on the formica kitchen side, oozing slowly toward the ceramic hob.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 01.07.2012 @ 5:09 pm
spanning the chasm, a single iron girder, bolted at each end but rusting, and worn thin.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 12.31.2011 @ 8:56 am
you are my silent n. you got me every time. snuck into words i was trying to whisper in other peoples ears.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 11.07.2011 @ 2:07 pm
an intuitive, automatic reaction, like the jerk of a knee under the hammer, i fight back. i didn’t see the knife until too late.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 10.25.2011 @ 2:02 am
your new ideas aren’t new. not even here, not even for you. you heard them, once, before, and half-remembered and remade them. i know they are not new, because they are mine.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 10.21.2011 @ 4:09 pm
it glowed, dully, on the laboratory floor. now, usually i would admit that dully glowing objects on laboratory floors are not entirely the safest objects to pick up with your bare hands, but that’s what i did. more fool me.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 10.17.2011 @ 3:27 pm
it slid down my throat, chilled, and sharp, like a cocktail on ice. i never wanted to be that right. but he was. he was. and is. and will be, because i have no way to stop him.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 10.11.2011 @ 4:38 pm
warning triangle, edged in red, battered and rusted round the edges. this is the point on the drive where i always start to worry. worry about what you might say, do, or think when i arrive, yet again, wearing my hair up and looking miserable.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 08.18.2011 @ 11:18 am
something you rarely do, with your lips set like that, like cold stone. i think i saw you laugh once, but it chilled me and i really would rather you never tried again. at least sat like that cold and unmoving i can pretend you are dead, or art, or something. don’t speak to me.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 07.29.2011 @ 4:00 am
i had to, really. not just think about it. I had to act on the impulse, go with the flow and just knuckle down and do it. sticking the knife in wasn’t hard, but tugging it out got tough. i left it in.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 06.17.2011 @ 6:42 pm
the origami elephant was a little bent from holding it my hand so long and smiling thinking of you. i put it on the table by your coffee and sat down opposite you and said… “hello?”
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 06.16.2011 @ 12:44 pm
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there was no train, or at least, no locomotive, only a collection of open trucks, rusting and rotting and clearly unsafe, and some still half full of coal or some kind of metal ore. since the station itself was abandoned and shrouded in dust, i gave it no more thought and slept on the tracks.
» Posted By biscuitmensch On 06.14.2011 @ 7:42 pm