Naznomarn

Woke today Was so cold Made my bed Lost my soul No more hair No more skin Heart of lead Cast of tin I can't touch I can't feel No more hurt I am steel Plug it in Switch it on Had enough It is done Time to go Can't you see? Shutting down No more me Obselete Out of time Remembering You were mine In a corner Under dust Please forget Let me rust

Just another touch is all she asks when once is not enough But more is too many It's tough In a world filled with open doors and we choose and choose as if they're nothing Left to lose Until she looks back, and they're shut closing in all around "I didn't see it happen..." Without a sound These endless choices seem to fly and I wonder why (Perhaps today is a good day to cry)

There were always going to be bands of those unfortunate enough that even the borderlands close to the Wall that separated the Old Kingdom from the land of Ancelstierre seemed safer than wherever they had fled. In these troubled times, few were brave enough to prey on such troubled souls, for fear of the troubled souls that might prey on them. And yet even now, someone was watching the company traveling toward the crossing point at Bain. While those in Ancelstierre that believed in the Old Kingdom saw the Wall as an inconvenience keeping them out, the reality was all too often much more sinister than that. It served to keep the Old Kingdom an

There is a book galactically renowned equally for its value and notoriety. Many have seen it as a pinnacle of publishing success, having now outsold infinity. The book of which we speak is, of course, the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. This is possibly the greatest work of fiction ever to fail to carry a hitchhiker the length and breadth of the cosmos for less than 50 Alterian dollars a day. However, what it lacks in coherence with reality it makes up for bountifully in useful advice for the wonton traveler. In particular some of the best advice it has to offer can be found embossed in bright, friendly letters on the cover: "Don't Panic". T

The echoes of wood meeting stone. A splash. Fog all around. A stumble into a shrouded figure. And a gasp. Hikari wiped the flour from her hands on her apron, brushing away the labours of a fruitful day in the bakery. There were still some rock cakes and loaves left unwanted by the day's trade. "Hey, Levant. Levant! I'm going back now, mind if I take these back to Orudo-homu? We have a new guest arriving soon!". She didn't wait for his reply, instead she folded the breads neatly into her basket and walked away, her wing twitching with a self important grace. Levant wandered to the sound of the bell's jangling, then peered out at the retreatin

The echoes of wood meeting stone. A splash. Fog all around. A stumble into a shrouded figure. And a gasp. Hikari wiped the flour from her hands on her apron, brushing away the labours of a fruitful day in the bakery. There were still some rock cakes and loaves left unwanted by the day's trade. "Hey, Levant. Levant! I'm going back now, mind if I take these back to Orudo-homu? We have a new guest arriving soon!". She didn't wait for his reply, instead she folded the breads neatly into her basket and walked away, her wing twitching with a self important grace. Levant wandered to the sound of the bell's jangling, then peered out at the retreatin

Once upon a time There was a dude who loved eating He was all NOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOMNOM All the time It was very tasty And he ate all the food in his house Then all the food in his street Then he emptied all the shops! Then once he finished all the shops He looked around And ate everyone's grass and flowers! Like the most hungriest, fastest lawn mover EVER Then he even ate the ground the plants and grass grew in Then once he finished eating them He ate all the trees Then all the fences, because he thought to himself "they're practially trees" Then he ate all the houses "Well, why stop at a fences?" He said between gulps. "Whe

Clouds march overhead, As a conundrum. The foot soldiers of an Immutable storm. They lay waste to all Starving plants, People And even colour itself of life. Pitching tents above the mountains; A vantage point. I can hear them whistle Singing round a fire. Priming their rifles, The squeak of polish. And that feeling you get, The sinking feeling. The one when you realise Their grey uniforms all turning at once. That they've begun the charge. The clatter of spent cases Ricochets off the window Air strike, shrapnel Battering the roof above. It's only a tin roof Between myself and them. Bleeding against the window Betwe

Sit upon a cliff edge Looking to the sea. Down there shines a lifetime But which one's made for me? Each sparkle is a future On a wave of possibility. Unlimited choice beneath us The ineffible infinity. Its reflection's in the sky Beside the moon and there I sit. Another me, another time What did that one do with it? With a life so far from heaven, And from the moon I'd start to shift Until I fell down from my cliff edge Up to the moon and a stormy drift. Filled with the flotsam of old memory Which I can't quite avoid So I hold on tightly to it As it carries me toward the void. Open those eyes and all around The water bro

I strolled through paradise A garden of my own. The place I imagine, The place I hold for you. Every flower holds my love. In each petal a thought. The bouquet stretches far, Far into an unseen land. I pluck one; Take it's scent for my own And all the flavours of this love. Held delicious in my arms.