VentureGrey

Dreamer

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I'm Tired.

I want to go to sleep but I feel too alert like my brain is full of clustered thoughts all wanting to be heard. My body starts itching. My eyes grow weary but it doesn't matter because my brain is still alert. I could try to lay down but it would be a waste of time. I will just writhe with my eyes closed, the lights off, the sounds from outside my room drilling into my brain as it goes over the events of the day. The doubts. The ideas. The regrets of my past - the future regrets I'm sure to make. I would drink tea, but it makes me feel ill before bed. I think it's the milk. I think it's the diluted caffeine. Today I felt sick. I always feel s

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Literature

I'm Tired.

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I'm Tired. by VentureGrey, literature

Literature

I'm Tired.

The Lady and the Painter by VentureGrey, literature

Literature

The Lady and the Painter

There once was a Lizard from Paris named Hugo. One day Hugo decided that he would make the grandest painting of the duchess of Squirmingtire, which was a provincial estate only 2 miles from Hugo's lofty studio. So he gathered his kit and headed off on his bike, down the winding streets of Paris to the outskirts into Squirmingtire. He skidded to a halt outside a lavish building, it had a very gaudy feeling to it, that reminded Hugo of the nobles of old. Gathering his wits, he pushed past the rusted iron gate up the chiseled steps to the landing. Before he could knock the door creaked open to just reveal a tiny pair of eyes in the narrow slit

Modern Cannibal by VentureGrey, literature

Literature

Modern Cannibal

She had the taste for sexual morbidity The stains of red trace her ruby lips Another bite sinking teeth in slowly Seething life seeps through cracked flesh A taste she cannot do without Fingers wet from red sticky meat Dripping on the white carpet floor Stains form a myriad of Rorschach tests What is it she sees? She slips her finger in her mouth A tormented gale on the curtains of her soul She controls yet craves for disorder Contradiction wrapped in death's hard wings An unsolvable problem Feasting alone, she sings.

Fireflies by VentureGrey, literature

Cold Tea by VentureGrey, literature

Literature

Cold Tea

Tea sits untouched. The murky surface marred by the separation of fluids. Thin veils of milk coalesce with the water and tan beverage. Do I desire cold tea? Does anyone? The cup is cold to the touch as I lift it to my lips, sipping the tart flavor that was once rich. Bitterly I lower the cup to the bench beside me. Better to pour it out, I think to myself. Like all of life's consequences, you leave something too long and it will go sour. Decisions that can't be made in the heat of the moment. You allow your mind to cool, so that you may analyze the situation coolly. Better to act on impulse at times. Take the plunge while the water is still h