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More from ~Prettydynamite

Crooked Smile, Thick AccentWas it my crooked smile, or your thick accent that gave it away? It might have been something else entirely. Your hands, my hair. It doesn't really matter now, what suddenly hit us like a gold brick inscribed with a song.  "And maybe, we were made, we were made for each other. Is it possible, for the world to look this way forever?"

       Maybe it was because the accent was fake, a joke to make me laugh. Or that the smile was to seem coy and flirtatious, only to impress you. While inside, I had been screaming to run far away where I couldn't screw this one up. Maybe you saw that in the smile. And maybe I heard it in the accent, who knows.
Next TimeThe music drifts out of the stereo, soft and sinuous and slow, like smoke. It wraps around this world that we've created, here and now for this small moment where we're separate from everything. Separate from the pub down the street, from the next-door neighbors, from the coffee we drank this morning. The music shelters us from it all, and for a few moments I forget my life. For a few moments, there are only us. There is nothing else.

        And there is him.

       He seems so quiet, asleep like this. Quiet compared to the shouting, panting whirlwind he was only minutes ago, caught up in the confusion of sex, sweat dripping from every inc
Burning the Midnight OilIt's still quite early, and I've run out of ideas. The screen of the laptop glows sadistically in my face, the few lines of type mocking me and my inability to find inspiration. They call it burning the midnight oil, staying up late to work that is. Though it's somewhere around midnight, I can't really say that it's exactly oil that I'm burning. So I think the more appropriate phrase here would be burning the midnight lavender scented candle.
        I lay back and cross my arms behind my head, watching the shadows on the walls. They dance across the room, flirting and playing with the dim light from the flame. The smoke curls up and disso
SmokeThe first thing I notice is the silence. It settles like snow once the rustlings stop, and the breathing levels. Then comes the burn of alcohol in my throat and stomach, and that deep, unsettling empty that always appears after the sex is over. I turn and feel around on the floor for my forgotten pants. I always try not to throw them too far, so they're within arms reach in the morning. I like to get out fast.
         I find them, and reach into the pocket for a cigarette. My lighter jumps in the darkness for a second, and then it's gone, the comforting warmth reduced to a glowing point of nicotine and tar. I lie back and fold my arms behi
AutumnCaustic colors come
Kill the clean, green, live summer
Dead white eats it all
BuddyYour brother's brains and love
Sprayed on a hotel floor
Like your cigarettes after you dropped them
On the floor of your green cabin
Where you sat waiting
For second or third hand news of death
You inserted yourself into this world of your creation
Then removed yourself
Too scared to die
You claim to be working
But your art lies
And I know the truth behind you
You gave me F. and Z. as a parting gift
But they were too young, too cold, too late
So I took your parenthesis out of the vase
And let them die.

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June 2, 2007
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:iconprettydynamite:
Nice and simple. Played with the color and contrast a lot with this one. I think it's really nice.
:iconregates:
~regates Sep 26, 2011
Once more I find a picture dealing with 'Grave Danger'. WHY?! That's like my most hated/favorite episode with Nick!
I should stick to some other episodes.
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:iconbloodcoveredlynx:
~bloodcoveredlynx Jul 2, 2007
It's a good thing they found him, too.
Reply
:iconletizia:
~Letizia Jun 8, 2007  Hobbyist Digital Artist
:heart:
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