Comments Posted By tHG

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“You can’t go! It’s suicide!”

“Stop being so pessimistic. There’s a .0001% chance I’ll get out alive.”

“I can’t stop you can I?”

“I just need your support. The little boost that says, ‘well, .0001% is still a chance, better than no chance at all.’ ”

“How about a kiss and you just think or do whatever you need to – ”

“Sure, that works too.”

» Posted By tHG On 02.04.2011 @ 2:07 pm

The drifter had faked her own death so many times that it was starting to become a huge joke.

Death would have to be fleet to catch her, and if he didn’t watch himself she’d find a way to steal his scythe too.

» Posted By tHG On 02.04.2011 @ 12:13 pm


You told me you were sorry you’d been naughty. But I didn’t believe you.

More lies spewed from your flashing lips.

I took a step back.

You noticed my hesitation.

What you didn’t know was that while I was away, I’d perfected my method in resisting your force. Therein lies the ultimate power trip. And I know were the light switch is.

» Posted By tHG On 02.02.2011 @ 7:31 pm

“I’m sorry I’m so naughty.”

You gulped and remained unconvinced.

I examined your enlarger, touching it gingerly, softly, not wanting to disrupt the set up. “I mean it. I wish I wasn’t so evil.”

You took a step back.

“That’s wise, but you can’t run. And in this room, dark as it is, you can’t hide. I was made to find you.”

» Posted By tHG On 02.02.2011 @ 1:58 pm

I walked into that room knowing nothing about it.

I heard voices telling me that if I turned on a light they’d end me right then and there. But just for fun, I switched on the flashlight in my pocket and asked, “You mean like this?”

“Stop!” A man screeched. “Don’t you dare!”

“You mean you don’t want me to pull out my flashlight and ruin your pretty pictures like this?”

The shadows on the wall saw it all, this is what happens when the dark underestimates the power of light.

» Posted By tHG On 02.02.2011 @ 1:15 pm

Everything it absorbs draws on light.

I told him my lips were like a pair of florescent flamingos.

Then I laughed at him in the dark.

“Come and find me.”

» Posted By tHG On 02.02.2011 @ 1:02 pm

I like to watch the patterns develop like ink rising and swirling, rising and swirling, rising and swirling, dripping and stirring. These are the images that float up from darkroom of my mind.

» Posted By tHG On 02.02.2011 @ 11:00 am

There’s something novel in doing something the old fashioned way. Waiting to see what develops. Stringing it all together in a crazy kind of pictographic yet linear phase, I think I’m going to open my eyes now. Because in a moment, the wait will be over. A picture? A thousand words? Oneword? Is there a difference or is it all the same?

» Posted By tHG On 02.02.2011 @ 9:37 am

In white room with a thousand curtains…
Draw them tightly and it all grows dark…

I’m searching for a pair of silver moonbeams –
In exchange for a set of saffron tigers crouching –

Sugar and spices, wish everything could be as nice as
The kiss that’s hidden for me in the darkest chamber of your heart.

» Posted By tHG On 02.01.2011 @ 9:15 pm

One room. So many possibilities. It’s almost quaint, like ink blotches and other slip-of-the-tongue tests. Too bad I’m strictly thinking on task. Its a story to be carried out in a darkroom which it leads me back into another story, which goes back to another story, which is a play on another story…funny how its always dark and never ends…

» Posted By tHG On 02.01.2011 @ 11:57 am


I watched this “movie” the other day. This guy walked in and started jingle-jangling about like he was the cock of the walk. But his junk just wobbled around like a plate full of jelly. It wasn’t going to get jammed anywhere anytime soon in that sad state. I thought these productions hired fluffers? Like fluffer-nutters, like PB needs some J.

» Posted By tHG On 01.31.2011 @ 10:10 pm


I’m procrastinating again. I’m supposed to be writing a short story outline for a print publication, but I’m just not feeling the required mood.

They want the tame purity of a lily-toting-dove, and all I want to do is roar like a sanguine-scented lion. I will tame my muse, for my whip is set to crack-crack-crack at it!

It’s the taming power into softly parting lips as paired with gently flushing glances – a thousand words is really a picture by comparison.

» Posted By tHG On 01.30.2011 @ 9:23 pm

I wrote my number on a slip of paper. Because I’d wanted you to call me, I made sure to print it all out very carefully. Precise, my script was written neatly: 1s did not look like potential 7s and my 4s resembled 4s – not 9s.

After the ink dried, I folded it crisply and pressed the blossom into your open palm.

Now you know how to reach me should you decide to ever call.

» Posted By tHG On 01.30.2011 @ 8:28 pm

I got a telegram the other day.
I sighed. Damn you love, fool.
I need to hear it in your voice.
Even if it cracks under pressure.
Vocally you can do no wrong here.
Why write, why print when the need is to be met vocally –
Whispered from mouth to ear.
You miss out on treasure when you give into fear.

» Posted By tHG On 01.30.2011 @ 6:46 pm

Printing is a divine form of language
Hand me a pen however
Random scribbles
Are a form pictography
So are anachronistic acrostics
Entering the mind of each plotting writer
Over the shoulder glances
Lamenting when looking back
Oft while cringing at slight of hand mistakes, yet
Grin like a mad-Cheshire kittiy when you’ve coined a stupid ditty
You preserve phraseology by keeping it as both an art and a science

» Posted By tHG On 01.30.2011 @ 3:02 pm


Vi And I
Lean out of bounds
Two twins in time are we
For there’s a forest alive
Where the trees have eyes and ears

“Vi dear girl?”
Yes, says she
“Let us not talk falsely now.”
She smiles, I frown.
I shrug, she’s still.
In the distance we hear a howling wind.
“I’m glad we understand one another, dear.”

» Posted By tHG On 01.30.2011 @ 8:35 am


So what.
Am I diversity?

Dropped, that’s what I did with my pretension. I’ve seen enough cruel behavior towards those who fall into the margin known as “minority.”

» Posted By tHG On 01.28.2011 @ 9:04 pm

I’ve dropped things.
But like all mistakes in life
It’s about picking up the pieces.
Sometimes you can glue it back together –
And other times you
Make something new –

As for my preference, I prefer the latter. It’s usually more true.

» Posted By tHG On 01.28.2011 @ 8:14 pm

I’ve dropped my feelings –
Right into the wastebasket
Who wants to be burden by these masochistic stirrings?
Regrets and pain for what you cannot have, but need.

I reach into the basket, and pull out the balled up paper
steeped in all my random scribbles –
I can’t stop what needs to be expressed –
as sad and pathetic as it is –
I know there’s nothing more real than what I feel for you right now
And how feel for you – I’m afraid will change me…

» Posted By tHG On 01.28.2011 @ 6:18 pm


“Well, the findings are conclusive.” I said, my eye-line just above the page. He squirmed in his seat.

“And?” He asked after the growing silence grew too long.

“It appears I’m stupidly in love with you.” I sighed.

I placed the document back into the folder.

“You really needed to read a report just know that?”

“Yeah. I’m kind of thorough in these little life details.”

» Posted By tHG On 01.27.2011 @ 1:00 pm


They’re like whores on a dock when the new ship in port drops anchor.

Or not.

Not all families are like parasitic leeches teeming with blood borne pathogens. But I believe that’s more “relative” than “relatives”.

» Posted By tHG On 01.26.2011 @ 8:57 pm


No, I will not go down with you into the modern equivalent of a “human” cave. It’s dank, it’s smelly, and more importantly other people in the house will hear us.

And frankly, I’m kind of loud like that. Plus you’re in your 30s. Why do you live with your mom and whatever-number boyfriend this is?

Ok, you know what. I’m not really feeling “wooed” here. The McDonalds dinner, the dollar movie, the bus, and now the basement? No, I just don’t think I can take it.

» Posted By tHG On 01.25.2011 @ 2:41 pm


Problem solving is to adaptation as orgasm is to hearing a choir of angels sing in your mind. It’s that hallelujah moment when “La Luz”, well, she shines like mega watt lightbulb.

Or in other words, it’s all in the way you jiggle the skeleton key into the stubborn lock. Click, click, pop!

And as a genuine lock pick, I rejoice when I come across a pattern that requires great effort to navigate. Without the latter there can be no “great reward.” And there’s nothing like a mountain full “reward” to inspire “great motivation.” So I say: ¡Viva la soluciones!

» Posted By tHG On 01.23.2011 @ 9:14 pm


He snorted with disgust as he read the next entry. She’d written so much poetry. “Too bad it wasn’t any good,” he thought gleefully. He ripped out another page and fed her words to the fiery, fiery furnace.

“Stealing glances between the exchange of words,” he recited pretentiously, “I caught you gazing while my face was turned.”

He dropped the book in his lap dumbfounded that she’d noticed.

» Posted By tHG On 01.22.2011 @ 11:47 pm


Sidetracked is one word.
I am it and it is me.
Together hand-in-hand we skip towards serendipity…
Our love is tripping into an unexpected discovery.

» Posted By tHG On 01.21.2011 @ 6:33 pm


Looks like your Ouroboros is a right-handed Möbius strip.

» Posted By tHG On 01.21.2011 @ 12:09 am

Like plankton in a roiling sea questions glitter under broken clouds and moonlight. In waves they cascade onto the shore carried by the tides. And between dimensions I wonder what happens when the process that produces consciousness stops working. Does it disperse the energy back into the void? And what about entropy? From this limited view, at least I can see there are seas of endless questions and many more partially obscured answers to be found riddled throughout the beach buried somewhere in the sands of time.

» Posted By tHG On 01.20.2011 @ 1:17 pm


Ever see a spider eat tacos? It’s impressive.

» Posted By tHG On 01.19.2011 @ 9:23 pm


I’m an industrial spy. I steal recipes. I know this isn’t like dealing with the CIA, MI6, or anyone “elite”, but sometimes my work can be just as messy. And I’m not talking Willy Wonka, “Whoops, some fat Aryan kid fell in my chocolate river” kind of “messy.”

You see, one time I nearly cut off the ear of a Kebbler Elf. I need to show that little pointy-eared bitch I meant business. I told him I would take my fleshy souvenir to my “employers” if he didn’t fork over the secret for Grasshoppers and Pecan Sandies. He didn’t believe me at first, so I had to cut him. Just enough so the blood would really start flowing, and of course I hummed a few bars to “Stuck in the Middle With You.” Apparently he’d seen the scene in Reservoir Dogs too and it wasn’t long before I had what I wanted and more.

“Soft Batch Chocolate Chip cookies? Oh, yes, I think I will take that too!”

Ok, I admit it. I was tempted to slice it off just for fun, but professionally it’s considered bad form to carry through with a threat once you’ve acquired what you came for. So I only pistol whipped him instead. However it wasn’t nearly as satisfying.

» Posted By tHG On 01.18.2011 @ 8:47 pm


Love is kind of like a blood sport. People like to pretend it’s all googly eyes and sweet talk, but eventually there will be sparring and inevitably barbs will come into play. Like a javelin thrown with enough force to take down a pygmy elephant, there are those remarks that shoot straight to the heart.

» Posted By tHG On 01.17.2011 @ 10:33 pm

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