Ether Dreams

Her eyelids flickered thrice, emerging, guarded from twilight sleep, dreams soaked in ether and dipped in blood. Formaldehyde filled jars with biological specimen lined the shelves and carried a heavy layer of dust, skin cells. A foggy haze of confusion and sepia-toned nostalgia filtered through her periphery and somewhere on the outskirts of her cerebellum stalked a wolf. A severed leg lay in the ditch on the side of a dirt road. She howled from somewhere deep within the hollows of not quite hell. Reaching down with her phantom limb, her fingers smeared sticky sugar against the naugahyde seat, the straps cutting into the pits of her arms.

Tattoo Flash - Izabella Dawid Wolf

I'm totally enthralled by this tattoo flash by Izabella Dawid Wolf.

Your Daily Nullification

I awoke in a fever, my daughter's hot, tiny body across my chest, with the realization that life is a lot like a choose your own adventure book, except that no matter what you choose, the outcome is always going to be the death card. Everyone you know and love will someday meet a grisly fate. We don't know which one of us will be the next one to go and which of us will get to continue with the adventure a little while longer. We don't know which wave will be the one to sweep us under, only that the one that will finally take us out to sea is out there waiting. 

Giving and Receiving

Re-blogged. Original post unknown

All Night Diner

This is the jewelry you wear to the all-night diner after a night of whiskey gingers, cigarettes and kissing strangers in bars. Your voice has gone all husky, and you sit with three of your friends trying to sober up with black coffee, fried steak and eggs. Your eye makeup is blurry like your vision, and the last of your lipstick has come off on the coffee cup.
 

Crossing Over

I awoke before the blue hour when the sky was still black with the feeling that you had died. Something was amiss. I thought that this must be the day that I grapple with the loss of your existence...and mine. Did your ghost sit on the edge of my bed as I slept, running the frayed edge of my quilt between your thumb and forefinger? Were you here to gently whisper into my consciousness the news of your passing, or maybe this feeling was the ghost of my past and that piece of me that was you finally detaching and drifting off into the ether of dreams that never were. No. Your death will not come that easily and will blindside me in broad daylight. This will not be the day I collapse into a heap on the rug. This will not be the day I kneel shaking my fists at the heavens, capsized into the wet darkness of grief.

The Thief

She sat cross-legged behind the circus tent. Her eyes like bruises gazed deeply into her cup of coffee. Her mouth was a fresh scar dangling cigarettes like trapeze artists, the smoke performing elaborate twists and turns, spiraling acrobatically from the lit cherry. Her costumes were constructed from the scraps of other people's lives that she was able to scavenge, steal and scrounge. She would sneak into the Monday matinees with her switchblade and thieve tiny swatches of velvet from the curtains, meanwhile gleaning ideas for costume design from the Edwardian period flicks. She scavenged elaborate buttons, sequins, beads and coins from the floors of the wooden bleachers of the carnival. No treasure went unused. She found creative ways to incorporate all of her findings. Circus-goers inevitably lost pieces of their dress through exuberant clapping and standing ovations. She considered this tithing for the spectacle that she helped create. She sharpened her swords, taking her time with each one, relishing the "clink clink" of metal on metal. She respected the ritual. She respected the lethality of the weapon and the precariousness of life and took her time to honor that before each performance. She took another gulp of coffee and stepped into the bright lights under the tent. 

This necklace is made of copper and fancy buttons. It measures 18 inches