z

Young Writers Society


Poor Imp

Photo of Poor Imp

Poor Imp!

Life--became stop-start fragments; survival, still--too staggering ; stopped. Heart beat moments and no memory. Barefeet on pavement without the breath to know it's evening.

Then, because I remembered I could love, start-stop rattled-battled back again; thriving, jiving; heartaches and cracks better than a chest that lacks.

Summer-soul.


Interests

Being. Tolkien. Languages. Still Autumns; dashing derring-do Springs into Summer. Impishness. Fencing. Chess. Narrative. Lyrics. Football--er, not the sort with the oblong ball.

Occupation

Tutor and Editor

Website

https://shikisstringliterary.wordpress.com


I was flummoxed by fractious Franny's decision to abrogate analgesics for the moribund victims of the recent conflagration. Of course, to display histrionics was discretionary, but I did so anyways, implicating a friend in my drama to make the effect cumulative. I think a misanthrope would have a prosaic appellation, perhaps one related to autonomy and the rejection of anthropocentrism. I think they wouldn't think much of the prominence of watching the coagulation of tea to prognosticate future malevolent events, not even if those events were related to jurisprudence.
— Spearmint