Ann Nomalie: The Price for Normalcy

Why not. Why not start it? I have a story. Stories. I have a character. A whole host of them. I have the tablet. I have the power to draw. Damnit. I'm going to start my own story.

Go Ann!

Dead Space

As part of celebrating my completion of Impossible mode with only a bitchin' plasma cutter (now thats a FEAT!) and getting a new Wacom PTZ3 tablet, here's a commemorative piece done on photoshop.

On the 1st day of March,

I saw you shiver, like

the note a gust stole from the gutter
you had so recently crossed.
Wet from swill, on it written –
“Did you know it’s monsoon again?”
It's late on its promise
of a torrent that speaks
louder than the Garand you hold
But your words still hang like bullets in the air
And I will be there to reap the skeletons
that you will have sown.

no one makes it out alive

I hear funny things out here.

I don’t want to stay out here anymore.
Please, I promise I’m alot better now.
Don’t leave me alone here.
I wish I could just talk to somebody.
Don’t walk behind me.
I don’t trust any of you.
From now on, no one gets out of my sight.
We should sleep in shifts.
Anybody tryin’ to leave, we kill ‘em.
He’s one of them!
You lying bastard.
Cut off their limbs!
Make us whole again.
Who says I want you going with me?
Everybody watch whoever you’re with.
You guys gonna let him give the orders?
It’s obvious this is sabotage.
Then I’ll have to kill you.
The dead stay dead.
Not here they don’t.
Auxiliary light cables been cut.
Cut? Been pulled apart.
You’re going to have to sleep sometime.
Where’s the damn flashlight?
Makes you a murderer then. Don’t it?
Whatever it was it was, it was weird and pissed.
No known survivors.
Everybody’ll be dead inside twelve hours.
Not everybody.
Only the dead survive.

3.18am

3.18am
he sits by the fish-tank
seeing them drift effortlessly
cobbles and bubbles
are all that fills his eyes
fish, water, moonlight
swirling thoughts
mecurial
in a snapshot

The publican and the Pharisee

I sighted land
'pon endless sea
alighted hence
away from the Pharisees
to this new land
the publican flees
still to fall prey
to his own bigotry

Whence I alone dream

We lighted the moon
in full colour
our thoughts speaking to each other

We helmed the ship
that sailed with easterlies
in currents flowed to our favour

We were the serpents
twined at sea
with marinere’s bless –
So we did confess!
to the scent of our own
sweet ardour

But Lo, I wake!
the sea is dried
the land already asunder

No rain, nor clouds
my throat ever parched
and the sea still farther

Yet my tired mind
doth still preside
upon this luctuous dolour – Ah, Hark!

I thought I heard some slight
patter of rain
mayhap you were singing to me
Apples red
fields halcyon green
could it be
you still think of me?

Yea, mayhap.

but only in this silent sea whence I alone

Dream.