Mark Heathcote

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryTen For The Ten Commandments (IP) well-wisher914 years 9 months ago
StoryNicknames for Aislinn Mark Heathcote415 years 2 months ago
StoryLove is the drug shoe815 years 3 months ago
Storyplease (don't ) marry me! shoe1515 years 3 months ago
Storythe affair shoe1315 years 3 months ago
StoryNo two people Mark Heathcote215 years 7 months ago
StorySpring Fever jennifer215 years 7 months ago
StoryEunectes Murinus Anna Marie315 years 7 months ago
StoryToothless Wander lenchenelf915 years 8 months ago
StoryHow royally Avant-garde am I? Mark Heathcote115 years 10 months ago
StoryNearly human (again) Nick.A315 years 11 months ago
StoryDo the British take their brollies? Mark Heathcote616 years 2 months ago
StoryVII Stanzas Mark Heathcote216 years 2 months ago
StoryA Lovely Day Jupiter1816 years 3 months ago
StoryThe Trouble with Grace Silver Spun Sand3016 years 3 months ago
StoryChaosity Kills jennifer216 years 9 months ago
StoryPenetrates jennifer117 years 2 weeks ago
StoryThe music of one’s love is deaf and dumb Mark Heathcote317 years 1 month ago
StoryA Cautionary Tale MistakenMagic217 years 4 months ago
StoryIn these cormorant hours spent swift Mark Heathcote217 years 4 months ago

My stories

Cherry

No louder than the snoring tigers lolling tongue!

O’ my sleeping; weeping, thoughts. We’re like army blankets, you and I Observing; nought but sunbeams... Nought... But the lintel iron moonbeams, Under—which no one listens.

Once again ship foundered…

As; the sun, sinks teeth into deepest shadow Its, here I’ve kissed her heart of darkness… And looked; in skulls empty eyes roundness. And tasted her lurid lips; hearts deep cello.

The drawbridge across the brambles…

Memories are like the motes—cordoned Around some ever increasing scrubland... Where; little or nothing else can be seen… Except the stoical boatman, who goes to glean?

Egotistic eccentric things like this…

Poetry is my one passion—my one love But, what do’ I forgo’ What infernal fires glow? In this life there—of’ What other things, what of’ “Do I not understanding know?

Am I Insensitive?

Ghosts come in the shape of the living

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