Poem: Issues
Author: Harper Kingsley

I get outraged and up in arms about various matters of the world
even as I grow annoyed by people trying to force their issues and concerns onto me.
Regurgitated shit is still shit, only perfumed by the vomitous source it came from
and I do not want it and I don’t care
concerned as I am by the things that matter to me.
You can try to change my mind, rewrite the person that I am and should want to be
but your efforts are fruitless, as all your yammering does is make my stubborn heart grow cold to you
and my brain shuts its doors and refuses to accept anything you say, no matter how inconsequential.
The more you say I should care, the less I do, about the things you press on me and you as well.
I look at you with empty eyes and closed ears, letting your experienced words wash away
you’ve lost me and you don’t know, caught up as you are in your news reports and casual bigotry.
The world is more than the tiny corner of it you let yourself see,
and I am not an echo of you or a continuation of you or anything to do with you, you, you,
not everything is about you, or about me, or about anyone at all.
Sometimes the world just is, with generations left gaping apart,
wallowing in different wants, needs, and fears.
You cannot change my mind, I’ll try not to change yours,
you can be you and together we’ll be the way we were, pretending at being happy,
as long as you know that I am not you. I am me.

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3 comments on "RAW: “Doggy Style,” by Sol Crafter – (NSFW) Chapter 03"

Title: Doggy Style
Author: Sol Crafter
Genre: mm, supernatural romance, urban fantasy, magical realism
Rating: Mature
Warning: Raw Feed
Summary: One minute Zack was uncrating the new shipment. The next minute he’s a dog. At least Sean seems to be a dog person. Now he just has to get Sean to be a a Zack person.
*
CHAPTER THREE

Being a dog was oddly peaceful. All of the tough human decisions had been taken out of his hands and he was free to enjoy the moment.

It seemed perfectly natural to him that he would climb on Sean’s bed and curl up near the bottom. He could feel the lumps of Sean’s feet under the blanket and they made him feel strangely safe. Or maybe it was Sean that made him feel safe.

Any way that he looked at it, one minute he was comfortably slumbering at the foot of the bed, and the next there was a strange, liquidy gliding sensation.

It didn’t hurt. It was just incredibly odd. It felt as though someone had grabbed him by the skin and pulled. His skin peeled off somehow and suddenly he had hands and feet instead of paws and he came to the realization that he was displaying a whole lot of pale pink skin.

The bedroom was dark and Sean was softly snoring. Zack had to slide off the bed. He felt quietly panicked, a litany of “Oh crap, oh crap” running through his head.

Sean may have admitted privately that he had a crush on him, but Zack wasn’t going to bank on that keeping him out of jail. He was in the guy’s house uninvited in the middle of the night and naked. The situation was more than awkward. It was downright disastrous.

Zack crept across the … Read the rest “RAW: “Doggy Style,” by Sol Crafter – (NSFW) Chapter 03”

Thank you for visiting.

Octavia remembered the way they’d looked at her pile of blankets. Half a dozen scraps of cloth in various fabric types. “Those synthetic fabrics don’t breathe” they would cry, as though she was committing some great sin.

They didn’t understand that that was the point. They didn’t breathe.

Blankets, towels, heaps of fabric–they may have been something to keep her warm and dry back during the old days, but they developed hundreds of uses after the end of the world.

She could wave a white towel to show she gave up. She could clog a drain with a microbial, moisture wicking blanket lining.

She could hold onto the soft comfort of the velour blanket someone had gifted to her. She couldn’t even remember his name, just the fact that he’d been a truly nice guy and not a predator in drag (Kang-soo*, that dirtbag). Blanket-guy had bought her the camel colored blanket while they were at some outside venue. He’d gotten her a coffee too, and the way he’d looked at her had made her start thinking that he was falling in love with her.

She couldn’t remember his name and his face was a blur, but his kindness had remained with her for all the years after the end of the world. He’d become one of her sweetest memories of her life before.

She wondered what he would be like now if he had survived. The thought had entered her mind with a Terminator fanfic, one where Clair Dane’s character from the original timeline never ended up locked in a bunker with John Connor.

She ended up falling in love with him because she didn’t meet him again until after the end of her world. She’d met him at the lowest point of her life and he’d … Read the rest “Don’t forget to bring a towel to the end of the world”

Updates and changes to come.

“Shower buddies” –The showers are side-by-side, so two men that have never seen each other end up singing together every morning.

*

A. “Did you know that every morning he gets up to take a shower at seven in the morning and sing with his neighbor? Shower buddies, he called it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It blew my mind for some reason. I’m okay with it now, but at first it seemed so weird.”

*

B. It freaked him out at first. One minute singing alone, the next in chorus with the guy from the neighboring apartment.

And then it was kind of cool.

In the mornings as he lathered up, he’d sing along with his neighbor, songs he never would have shared with anyone else.

B1. It was romantic, but in a nonsexual way. This was his singing buddy. This was his beautiful friend whose face he never wanted to see.

How horrible was that?

But he’d been hurt before. He’d fallen out of love with plenty of people when he *got* to see how they truly lived.

His step-sister had delighted in taking all of the magic out of his world when he’d been twelve years old. It was the one stark memory of his childhood that he maintained: that monstrous figure looming over him. He’d thought she’d been demonically possessed.

Always so quiet and still, she’d leaped out of her chair and begun screaming out answers to every question he’d interrupted her with all night. Bulging eyes and raging mouth; he’d been completely terrified. And ever since then, his every bogeyman-moment was tied to that fear. (He wished he hadn’t posted his worst fear in his profile. It would have been better if he’d made something up.)

He couldn’t handle it if his singing buddy was horrible to look … Read the rest “PROMPT: Shower Buddies”

I make wishes on the stars all the time. It doesn't seem like a waste to me. Because in the forming of a wish--an idea--a concept of what can be is created. And until a wish is formulated, it's nothing but stardust and fantasy.