Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Short Writings by Valerie D.V. (websites to read books for free txt) 📖
- Author: Valerie D.V.
Book online «Short Writings by Valerie D.V. (websites to read books for free txt) 📖». Author Valerie D.V.
In a smoke filled room.
With your lover watching me.
There are three doors and no keys.
It’s rising, it’s choking me.
In a smoke filled room.
Killing me slowly.
Softly. Bitterly. Deathless death.
There’s a man with no face.
Just a blurred out portrait
In a photo frame.
I’m losing again; I’m losing my friend.
He’s face down on the cold, harsh, pavement.
Then a woman, she screams.
It’s a terrible night.
As the moon changes to dark from light.
Tell the doctor what’s become of me.
So you can scrutinize, evaluate my dreams.
Of a smoke filled room.
Dark. Stinging. Abhorrent.
Then we kiss and his lips turn into sand.
The whole of him cascades through my hands.
Making a castle on the floor.
Then I’m alone again.
No keys and three doors.
And a smoke filled room.
Now we’re both in the room
And we’re inhaling the haze.
No doors this time, just a gap in the roof.
Life floods in, heaven, we’re blind.
And slowly suffocating, we’re dying.
In a smoke filled room.
We’re dying.
Slowly, painless, decaying.
A silence, sleepless, bereavement.
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Publication Date: 03-02-2015
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