The Last Fish in the World (microfiction)

The last fish in the world said nothing. It had been alive for so long that it had seen all the creatures of the sea slowly disappear. It swam through the murky depths, alone and silent, its scales reflecting the dim light of the deep. It had seen the destruction of its home, the pollution, the overfishing that took away its friends and family. It had nothing left to say. It simply continued to swim, a noiseless witness to the destruction of its species.

No one knows where this last fish went. It is likely a tiny, elusive creature that managed to evade capture. Scientists never observed the last fish in the world, but its existence is acknowledged by all the wise ones. It is a symbol of fragility. The last fish in the world will never be seen by you, me, or anyone else. But if by some miracle you happen to see the world’s last fish, consider yourself a blessed one who will live a very long life.

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Mercy Queen (a poem)

Cold wind encloses my bleeding face
Seemed a new image in the brushwood night
And the mercy queen with her blue lips
Rosy with smile, and sugar from the snow
A frozen kiss and dazzling glow of light
Spreads the fresh future to its gown of dread
Lay me down and smash my head
While the bright wave in emerald tones
Kill me softly and break my jawbones

The Dying Man with No Eyes (microfiction)

The dying man with no eyes talked to me in an outlandish way. His face was melting, and his eyes were missing, leaving me excited. I couldn’t understand why he was talking to me like that. It was almost as if he was trying to communicate something, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Perhaps he was trying to tell me something about his life, or maybe he was trying to warn me of something. Whatever the reason, his words were astonishing, and his face melted away. His no-eyed gaze seemed to be watching me, and I stared into the colorful kaleidoscope void of his dying face.

He melted into nothingness. His body disintegrated as his essence dissipated into the air, leaving no trace of his existence. He had no control over the process and no way to stop the melting, the breakdown, and the fading of all meaning. His life had ended, and he was powerless to stop it. His body evaporated until nothing was left, and he was gone, leaving no evidence that he had ever been there or that such a man of his caliber had ever walked foot on this jilted planet. All that remained was a memory quickly transferred and uploaded into my skull, which tasted delicious.

A Billion Pieces (microfiction)

My head exploded into a billion pieces. I was surrounded by a mixture of colors that seemed to be emanating from my brain. I felt a strange forcefield like I was being held in an energy bubble. I felt as if I was being transported to a different realm, and my mind was filled with knowledge I had never known before. I could feel the power of the colors and the forcefield, and I knew I had tapped into something singular. I was filled with a newfound sense of understanding, and the colors seemed to guide me on a journey of self-discovery.

I woke up on a new planet, and the colors were unlike anything I had ever seen. The sky was bright pink, and the grass was a deep purple. I was filled with orgasmic thoughts as I explored the new landscape, taking in all the sights and smells. As I walked around, I noticed new tastes as well. The air was sweet and tangy, and the plants had a hint of spice. I was filled with wonder as I took in the beauty of my new home. Everything seemed alive and vibrant. I couldn’t help but smile as I realized I was the only one there.

This Love Can Survive (a poem)

This love can survive, I know it in my jaws
Cracked, hollowed, boiling within
I stand beside your body like a fire
You made my dreams less shadowy
You closed the hole in my head
The love filled my tender body
Exposed to sapphire oceans of the world
The morning sealed your celestial eyes
And we woke on the bed of flowers
Twirled by the gale of a new glory

Hallucinogenic Night Sweats (a poem)

Purple, yellow hallucinogenic night sweats
In dark desert huts of Death Valley
Enormous suns are my gods and my killers
No one can tell me otherwise
Sweat pours in dry air heat psychosis
Smells of seared flesh passion fruit
Mouth singed swollen cracked
Praying to dark red sky redeemers
Hesitating to bury myself alive

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