Comments Posted By Sparrow

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There were many stories of the ex-wrestler living on the third floor of the crumbling apartment. People judged him because of his tough face and lofty build. Some say he killed a man. Other speak of his lost family of cannibals.

» Posted By Sparrow On 08.01.2014 @ 5:44 pm


No movement in the landscape, not even a whisper of acrid wind. The heat in the air stings.
Everything is static.
The year is 2092. I was born in the year 2068.
Earth is a barren, dehydrated landscape. The toxic air and lack of water has killed most life.

Stories say it was once full of lush, green trees. I don’t know what a tree is.
And there was water, said an old man who was more leathery and cracked than my boots. Water, so much of it that it would cascade down rocks and mountains with a roar. Water, in pools so big that you could jump right in and not hit bottom. Water used to divide countries, an expanse so far and wide that it would go straight to the horizon. They called it an ocean. You could put ships in them, get in, and travel, he said.
I don’t know what a ship is.
He was probably lying. Hallucinations and dreams of a dying man.

I try to scratch my face behind the gas mask. It itches like hell, but I can’t take it off. Not until I reach Solace. If it exists. If I even find it. All I have to go on is a stolen map and a day’s worth of water.

» Posted By Sparrow On 09.01.2012 @ 12:54 am


He has a tie and an overtly genuine smile, like those salesmen that try to sell you their cheap crap.
He’s coming up to me.

Have you heard about Jesus, sir? he asks.
I give him a hard stare and deliberately take a slow drag on my cigarette.

Well, he continues, without waiting for an answer, if you have a minute, sir, I could–

Here? I ask. Really?
I don’t understand, sir. His smile never wavers.
Here? On this street, in this neighbourhood, at this time, and you’re trying to ask me to come to your church and get saved, or some sort of shit like that?
A girl–nice ass, tits are a little too big; plastic, probably–too much make-up and more skin than clothes on, struts past and disappears behind the tinted glass doors next to me.

Well, sir, I.. He falters a little.
Let me tell you something, buddy, I grunt. Flick the ash from my now burnt-out cigarette onto his patent leather shoes. You have your salvation. Let me have mine.
I toss the smouldering stub onto the floor and step into the girlie bar.

Salvation is when you leave your worries at the door. Heaven is lit up with sequinned tassels and whirling neon lights.

» Posted By Sparrow On 08.30.2012 @ 1:25 am


They’re so pretty.
Look at these skinny little bitches, decked out in diamonds and leather and heavy make-up on glossy pages.
Look at the men, perfect stubble, six-packs and tanned skin and massive bulges in their Calvin Klein boxer briefs.
Look at how much you want to be like them.
Look at them, damn you.

Don’t you want this? All the money, the fame, the prestige.
Of course you do.

You’ll never get it, though.
You’ll never be like them–you know it.
But you can spend the rest of your sad little life trying to. Oh yes, you can try.

» Posted By Sparrow On 08.28.2012 @ 11:08 pm


you can only feel human through so much.

after that, it’s only reflex,

his hands felt sticky, raw, abused. each body he dragged into the ditch was another victory for somebody else – another number to add, another name to erase.
there were hundreds of them, layers of non-life, everywhere.

» Posted By sparrow On 10.11.2011 @ 11:09 am


Preoccupied. Whatever it is, let it go. If the choice between what occupies your time tempts you one way- follow it. Be where you want to be.

» Posted By Sparrow On 09.24.2011 @ 10:10 pm


Dirt road drive with the windows down. Felt the willows on my palm. Danced in the lupins and picked the mint leaves all day long.

» Posted By Sparrow On 05.27.2011 @ 5:17 pm


the end of an era. the bittersweet symphony of closing doors and moving on to new horizons. the end but not quite the beginning, to be attached but detached and a heartfelt collection of contradictions and confusions. where to next and what to do? the answers lie within our own, but without the guidance of those we have lost from now to eternity

» Posted By sparrow On 04.10.2011 @ 1:43 am


Get the hell outside.

» Posted By Sparrow On 03.17.2011 @ 11:52 am


I figure I should start figuring shit out. But I’ll figure it out tomorrow, and tomorrow I’ll say the same.

» Posted By Sparrow On 03.16.2011 @ 3:55 pm


My heals are young but cracked and worn. They have pull me where they want to go and I move them where I choose to go. We do not argue, my heels and I. We show each other the world, we feel sand, warm puddles, dry grass. We jump when we step on thistles. I like my heels. I hope they like me too.

» Posted By Sparrow On 03.15.2011 @ 12:41 pm


I’m not sure if wonder leads to wander, or wander leads to wonder. It’s more than strolling, every part of me wanders. My ears wander, my eyes, my feet, my soul. An escape to intuition. No maps, no answers.

» Posted By Sparrow On 03.14.2011 @ 11:08 pm


From far away the pile looked cone shaped. It was not until she got closer when she realised it was a pile of dead bodies. She couldn’t even scream, her voice was lost. Her eyes buldged in agast.

» Posted By Sparrow On 11.12.2009 @ 12:09 pm

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