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This Nightmare ch. 8
I woke up in the hotel we had spent the night in. I rolled over across the bed and grabbed the watch on the end table I usually keep in my pocket. 7:21 AM. I rolled out of bed and stepped over Fall who was sleeping on the floor and walked into the bathroom. "Hey Larry, how you feeling dead head?" I said quietly to the dead zombie soldier who was leaning against the doorway of the bathroom with his helmet covering his eyes. His name tag said Larry and was a private. I didn't believe he was a seasoned veteran. He looked like a young shangian wolf but his face was horribly mangled to the point where you could barely even tell his was Shangian if it wasn't for the fur covering the rest of his body.
I brushed my teeth and picked at the dried zombie blood still in my coat from my marvelous adventures. I took a shot of my favorite brand of whiskey and took the pipe out of my duffel bag with a dime bag worth of marijuana and packed it into the end of the pipe and
This Nightmare ch.7This Nightmare
The song's bass bounced the heavily armored SUV like a hacky sack on 4/20. I was barely conscious in the back while Fall and Krystal were rapping along with the song by run D.M.C. I love the song but my morphine had me seeing colors and tripping balls. No wonder it was illegal without a prescription. I loved the smell of my shirt that had 'ICP' written across the front. I hadn't taken it off since all this dead head business began a little over three weeks ago. I had one more can of tomato soup in the back seat in between the driver's seat and my head. I reached for the can and opened it with my sharpened claw. I knocked back the can with a loud gulp and throw the empty can into the far back of the SUV. I heard someone say 'He's awake.'. I turned around to come face to face with my best friend of twenty-three years, Fall, "Hello friend." He said plainly as we passed by a sign saying 'welcome to California! Home of medical weed and Germans with deep voices
Let the Sparrows InI.
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
with its branching hallways
furniture rooted to the floor
family, friends, the occasional
out from home.
Let the sparrows in; let
Let the door's
loosen—let the door stand ajar
be let open
the night owls and
let the doves
in pairs in the iridescent
Let the sparrows in.
Framed on either side
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More