Holding the glass half shattered neither full nor empty it’s both and neither the vital water spilled and we’ve been left with these pieces which we try in vain to rearrange like a deranged puzzle only there were forms that fit while now, nothing does a faultline runs through it through all mirrors a warp, … More Holding the Glass Half Shattered by Alex S. Johnson
Another bombed poet experiment in hedonistic vial spilled of the elan vital coupon for severed heads blood in the fridge teetering on the stage spilling words as a row commences as the scenery shifts again behind returning to war mode and the lances and talons of hawks for a quick, knee-trembling high get your blood … More Another Bombed Poet
Takeaway: do not let them see this. Repeat. Datomime is the real fake news. It contains an exponential mirroring effect. Once ingested, datomime remains in the system indefinitely and can be potentiated with any image of XX frequency. I saw datomime chatting up werewolves in Soho. It has aspects of wabbit twickery. Datomime attaches to … More Datomime by Alex S. Johnson
“So, children,” he said. “What kind of story would you like to hear?” The kids looked stunned for a moment, then pandemonium broke out. A redhead raised her hand. The library storyteller nodded. “Yes?” The girl was full to bursting with eagerness. “A Christmas story!” “Yay!” George Butler smiled. Despite all the grim things you … More A Merry Christmassy Tale by Alex S. Johnson
She wanted all the details. You could tell when they did. “Underwater…” “Underwater vampire scope,” he said, efficiently clipping his syllables so she would think he was that kind of man. His tie, nicknamed “Museum to be Destroyed,” wobbled in the dark, the dazzler of reptile brains; but maybe not hers…at least right now. “Oh.” … More Underwater Vampire Scope by Alex S. Johnson
Floating and Flying is Easy. From a dream perspective, it’s sufficient to remember, “Oh, I can fly” to get a good altitude and keep it. Animals Speak Our Language. Yes, cats and dogs know our language too.
Harry looked from side to side, then down the long table. He saw that most of the other guests seemed equally puzzled what they were doing there. Worried glances, hunched shoulders and experimental moves with the green cloth napkins and silverware; fiddling with neckties or necklaces; the exaggerated show of ease displayed by the deeply … More The Soup of the Damned by Alex S. Johnson