JupiterMoon

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryThis Also Shall Pass JupiterMoon812 years 8 months ago
StorySaturday night/Sunday Morning JupiterMoon312 years 8 months ago
Storyearly sun over Hope Valley JupiterMoon612 years 11 months ago
Storyflutter JupiterMoon313 years 6 days ago
StoryAbigail Jessiibear1913 years 1 month ago
StoryGames People Play MistakenMagic2513 years 1 month ago
StoryStrawberry Red JupiterMoon313 years 2 months ago
Storythe dying of the £1 wasp JupiterMoon113 years 2 months ago
Storystrangers sailing through a breakfast sea JupiterMoon313 years 2 months ago
Storyis this thing on? JupiterMoon213 years 3 months ago
StoryYou Breathe Jessiibear913 years 3 months ago
StoryWhere Butterflies Sleep Sooz0061413 years 3 months ago
Storyfade JupiterMoon213 years 3 months ago
StoryY Unman JupiterMoon313 years 3 months ago
StoryLove in a time of riots lavadis1113 years 3 months ago
StoryKorn lavadis413 years 3 months ago
StoryI am met at the crossroads by a horse of dangerous beauty lavadis713 years 3 months ago
Storysnail JupiterMoon213 years 6 months ago
Storywhy people in Range Rovers always look terrified JupiterMoon313 years 7 months ago
Storythere's few things more tragic than a wasted condom JupiterMoon413 years 10 months ago

My stories

Cherry

early sun over Hope Valley

early sun over Hope Valley head back, the sleeping sun pours her storm black hair over the tooth broken shale, river aglint, in the pebbled flint, spilling down in the trackside gale.

break in at the heart

break in at the heart something, in the shining smile, shows me there is a way inside. this will take time: patience measured in Mondays, the warmth of friendship first,

portrait of the artist as a small man

portrait of the artist as a small man a weather bleached bench gapes onto a pale blue sky, fallen leaves, spilled over the ground as a copper blood-letting. here, is a Sunday place;

unhalf

unhalf magpies pair for life. this means, if you see one – they’ve lost one. a whole sky to lose themselves in, blue for the tumbling. until the cry of night’s door,

bottle blue

bottle blue we’re all just so many vessels, clinking together on Sunday buses. entirely at the mercy of brakes; we rock forward, we rock backward. later… before…

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