~marvellousdark
moth to the nape of your neck
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DreamLABSIn a room this white, anyone would stand out. But for none other than the Right Honourable Geoffrey Fawkes could the fact be truer, buttoned up as he was in a funeral-dark suit. His gait alone was awkward on the eye, his limbs so close to him it was as if they had been lassoed there with an invisible rope. With the black overcoat, the immaculate black shoes, the scruffy black hair atop his plain, pale apple-shaped face and the unnerving furrow of his dark brow, he was out like the sorest thumb. However, he spoke with disarming, treacly confidence and suave when he leaned into the DreamLABS secretaryDreamLABS
by ~marvellousdark
The Changing HouseThe Changing House.The Changing House
From the middlemost branch on the wise, fatherly oak tree on the hill, Sam could see cars parking outside the Warming House. They drove slowly and unsurely from the wet, dark, English forest, bringing with them usually a weekend’s worth of activity. Of bed-making, of cooking, of cleaning up, of making the occupants’ little getaway as comfortable as possible. But under the clouds’ typical grey, the promised activity seemed dreary; seventeen years of the same chores would leave any body bored, Sam thought, as he slipped from the branch’s damp seat, landing wel
by ~marvellousdark
25. 05. 2007Drunken, black-lunged. It seems like only yesterday, The night we finally caught the Clock Slip his crooked hand and slip two years.25. 05. 2007
We sat bright-eyed, Supple-skinned and haughty-limbed, And soft enough in our young minds To let Time, the Trickster, make this disappear.
In a second we were old.
And the numbing haunt of alcohol Did little to obscure the warmth Of classrooms, whiteboards, hallway highs, That the morning we grew old we said goodbye to.
by ~marvellousdark
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- Interests: Deep sea creatures, dinosaurs, hallucinogens, dreamstates, politics, writing, 1900-1950s Britain.
- Favourite movie: Adaptation.
- Favourite band or musician: Interpol.
- Favourite poet or writer: Capote.
- Operating System: Respiratory.
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From the heart, the truth only, no exceptions.
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"She said that Mr Colenso had "handled the truffles inappropriately" ([link])
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DAS LIT IST NOT FÜR FUNSIES! BITTE GO KILL YOURSELF.
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DAS LIT IST NOT FÜR FUNSIES! BITTE GO KILL YOURSELF.
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whats not to get
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"Without contraries is no progression."
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Sometimes it's right to do a wrong thing...
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whats not to get
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