The life of winter first, the gun, second. One bullet through the skull, an eye misses, and then, a smile in a woman’s face, who is both the corpse and the killer. …

Anyway, somebody asphyxiated when they shouldn’t have, a heart exploded, in heartbreaking agony, when the love was still beautiful, and the smile lived, existed, and dreamt in each and everyone of us.

You still believe in me, I said to those who were still my lovers despite everything. In the…

The light of god is near, the moment of my reveal, the main character of life. But in the moment of truth, where the heart was open to the unnerving attendants, I fucked up my life, my urge to kill, my sexual libido, my body full of fat and sweat…

I was waiting for the gnome of inspiration to tickle my numb feet so that I could compose the rhyme that my song needed. I had such a frail voice from all the nails I had swallowed, all my fingers had been smashed with a hammer, and the piano keys…

The pleasure is momentary, the memory is eternal, in between there is the external, eternal, perhaps, suffering of waiting, always waiting, for more pleasure. The instant of love is an exotic occasion, a dance with feathers and leather, a numbness of skin that extends in a slither, that wraps itself…

He was not a frog but when he was born his parents called him Bobbo. From that point on, everyone laughed at him even when he was wiping his own ass. They laughed and laughed at him all the way from the hospital to the ice cream store to the…

The slow, methodical quickening gave way to the sudden rush of an ember, a flame of which life, was one of its many fuels. It burned bright, but ugly, and there was no arson or charred corpse that would be enough to put it out.

What exists there, a born…

She knew what it was, a thing in her life that did not make sense. Whoever was writing her absolute horrific nightmare of an existence, had forgotten the first rule of reality: it needed to make sense, it needed to have an establishment of rules that were meant to be…

The road, paved with a delightful colorful color of rose, went all the way to the clouds. In a manner that still befuddled the little girl, everything around her could be eaten with a grimace, and savored with contempt. …

Eric S. V. B.

I like to write for some reason so I’m doing it here. I’ll try write something every day, and hopefully, get better at it.

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