poem: naked try? no, just the look

naked try? no, just the look
find a show with killer hook
add to drama, drugs and drugs
black out late and dream of hugs
leaves and crystals leave them blank
head of clouds, so have a wank!

sketch: demon parade one

crude colour sketch of a fat, tongue-lolling demon with drooping eyes, drawn from the work of Kawanable Kyōsai

39 v) The heat, for Abia, grows

The heat, for Abia, grows. Waves of infernal fire wash over her spirit, leaving her body unharmed but her mind seared.

Twenty years or more since she’d left the dragon’s employ. Twenty years or more since she’d torn herself away from the shackles of its malignant expectations. It had been a few years since she’d even thought of the dragon, found herself surprised to find its scaly head invading her mind.

Years to quit, mere hours to return.

poem: two free-feeling breezes

two free-feeling breezes
hurt to bajeezus and fearful of teasing
seizures wake me up
no longer feeling the dust that breeds dreaming

sketch: red letter morning

crude mono sketch of a host from youtube's redlettermedia, his eyes mostly closed — crude mono sketch of a host from youtube’s redlettermedia, his eyes mostly closed

39 iv) Abia, for her part, remains calm, meditating a while in a corner

Abia, for her part, remains calm, meditating a while in a corner, her legs folded, eyes closed. Her indigo robes had hardly needed washing — perhaps a few extra creases and folds here and there, but scarcely comparable to the grime that plagues her companions.

Privately, Abia weighs her desire to return to the warmth of the dragon’s employ with her former desire to escape it. Those years seem long-ago now, somehow quaint with gauzy nostalgia. Her brow creases almost imperceptibly in her stillness. What to make of a will to return to fire and fangs?