September 9, 2010


She was withered away on a vodka and cocaine diet. I used to play her ribs like a xylophone while she vomited gibberish over the telephone. I would glance over at the mantle and look at her old pictures. There was a sparkle in her eyes that slowly decomposed. She was dried up. Her tears smelled of formaldehyde. Her breath stunk of cigarettes and missed opportunities. She would gasp when her wild cats jumped her chest and scream when she showered. Her nose was burnt. Tiny crystals destroyed her mind. She was sick. I coughed, and walked out.

Image is the painting Albatross by Joyce Polance


  1. Man, so vivid! And so sad, but also empowering because he walked out.

  2. eez so loverrly, would make me cry if i had tears. or if i weren't afraid of formaldehyde oozing from mes yeux. you know how it is. though you shouldn't believe everything you read...

    bye now

  3. Fantastic, always paint a picture that is both unexpected and fascinating.

  4. i'd say delicious but of course it's rather nauseating of a topic. miss your words. please deliver more tasty bites for us hungry folk.

  5. Your writing went well with the picture posted! This for some reason reminds me of a goth version of the story Emily Rose by William Faulkner.. If you haven't read it I recommend that you do.. it's a short story so it won't take long.


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