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 3 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

a long time since i have seen an unspooled tape on the floor

a long time since I have seen an unspooled tape on the floor growing up, my gingerbread kingdom, would often be riddled with the metallic brown linguine, of a dismembered cassette.
Cherry

snail

snail back curled and tourmaline. your infinite, soft stroked hatchings remind; bring forth whispered remnants, from another time. your dawn pavement, now faces an onslaught-

faces in the felled tree

faces in the felled tree what was once a mighty oak, is now no more, than a mighty sadness, slashed and bleeding on the woodland floor. some weeks ago, a man in overalls

the nine ladies

the nine ladies you are sleeping now. slumbering stones warmed by the sun, your mossed flanks tickled by the kiss of a fragile breeze. late with the dance of purpled night,

nightfall over Whitby

nightfall over Whitby night strung in shining jet, the outline of extinguished boats glimmering, in the moment, where the tide, graceful necked and headless, pours out into the more.

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