The SA Series
By Anchor
A journal detailing 12 months in South Africa
- 654 reads
afterthought nausea
afterthought nausea left by the coffee now two days gone left by the sleep ignored for so long left by the mess of the unrighted wrong afterthought nausea.
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- 360 reads
Amazon
She wears her bruises like a badge, blossoming on her vein-marbled skin. Every cut, every scab, every hard earned scratch, is a mark on her map, a sign of a win.
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- 2 comments
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- 774 reads
Arsehole
you gob shite you arse wipe you absolute twat. you wanker you plonker you snake and you rat. you nob head you dick head you ungrateful shit. you arsehole you skank hoe you total eegit.
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- 679 reads
Best of Them
the boy who mouthed over your perculiar judges knows better than them of your faults and takes out his iron to flatten your creases to smooth your flaws the mismatched friendship
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- 416 reads
Defamation
He's prone to exaggeration, it's spreading like a contagion, with steely determination, through a sickly population, or like a lover's silent elation, during a vivid evocation,
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- 777 reads
Miss Ambition
She's an over-talker an it's-not-my-faulter a parentless daughter a truth-distorter an I-want-morer a thought-contorter a reprimand-vaulter a synus-snorter a self-doubt-aborter
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- 3 comments
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- 951 reads
Night Shift
It might seem deathly quiet lonely, empty, yet haunted still and with the grey forever of the hallway weak glow of the bathroom light the scene is set for fear.
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- 4 comments
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- 1087 reads
No Man's Meat
I can't feel pain the way you do, I guess it's not in my DNA. Neither's humour, isn't that true? Or what is it that you want me to say? And you're genetically predisposed
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- 401 reads
Oil Spill
So seep in midnight oil spill, drip between the twists and turns, nooks and crannies, delicate carriageways, intricate corridoors, thought roads. Burrow deep and spread like
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- 3 comments
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- 843 reads
Road Trip
We're cutting a line below the star-spangled dome, through the dry grasslands and the forested hills. The trail we leave is not always straight and the journey we make is haltering.
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- 632 reads
touching wood
I've been touching wood a lot because of recent vivid dreams watched that dead baby's body rot the world unravel at the seams London's waiting up ahead tapping at her watch
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- 485 reads
Two Years' Time
will you be ready in two years' time, or will I still be waiting then? in 5 years, 10 years? will it end? this a game of your design. it's hopeless this imagined love
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- 439 reads
Villains
So who visited you in your childhood bed? -The old man in red or the woman with wings? Or perhaps other unearthly things. Or maybe the villains who arrived at night
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- 777 reads