Prose – A2voicedlife

Ancient Stag

September 22, 2025

Hades in my throat, be ware. A splendid stag stands frozen in my chest, if he doesn't summon his devil. He can see you before arrival, you shouldn't bother him with pettiness, what your constant boredom comes up with. Its not our fault you can't fill in the void, not our making that you're mental machines like to stir up the waters, scared to death you might find yourself accountable. My horned animal stands behind me, it doesn't appreciates strangers...

Omens on the AM

July 20, 2025

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| Prose

¿A flying red demon? Oh no, the scorpion fly, a real insect. He hovers huge and intimidating in the lamps potent glare, showing himself with intention, but for the moment I can only make out the blur of those chopper like, winged layers, and their high pitch rattle. Meanwhile, at the base of the barn, a toad sits unimpressed, shaded in the the damp ground. The week after my odd encounter, a small, greyish, scorpion, landed right at my feet,...

Stripping Down

June 26, 2025

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| Family History, Prose

Let's get bare, all out, leaving what's true and told, nothing to add or fix. The story ends here, a chapter played to the best of its capacity, nothing better or new will come from it. Cords severed gently, no fuss, loosened knots, we're closing up the tent. Built, used, and spent, we have several humidity stains, a few cracks, and some peeled walls. We're weathered and salted by all of it, and aware: we must complete the other half...

Disillusion

April 9, 2025

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| Family, Family History, Prose

We are not the illusion. Hidden from view, deep in childhood, the night comes with crickets, picnics are set nearby the river, a brick home stands proud in the countryside. When I utter brother, mother, father, I expect to feel them even in the distance, able to pull them closer with a simple wish. But what I got is the awkward, the alien in its own country, many a contradiction of terms. I used to believe, but had to stop....

Vulture

March 28, 2025

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| Homage, Prose

When it began they were scouting the sky, back in late august, when the summer light glared fierce. The span of their wings was the extent of a premonition. Drought and desert had come to the city to stay. Dead things lay fresh, but soon to be gone; lives run out and reclaimed back to earth. On my daily commutes they signaled from above, when doubt and dread circled my mind, like scavengers. It got better when I looked up....

Slither

March 22, 2025

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| Prose

Slipping through the cracks, an ethereal presence, a phantom being, slithers in deep silence, at the bottom of darkness, in the abyss. There's more beyond the cracks: new intuition, a world still without words, unseen, barely heard, more felt. Old laws don't work anymore, only the desire for birthing something new and free. Energy build up is what's needed to fatten up the slithering smokey ghost. I hear steady crumbling as the last degrees of march skid by. Degradation of...

Rite of Passage

January 22, 2025

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"Shush" instructed the winter wind, on a very cold morning. The Sun's familiar hug now weak, his usual toasty shawl much too light over my shoulders, and the steep cool-down made me shudder. I walked faster, as if it were possible to to flee the chill, cutting through every nook and cranny of my attire. My feet soon built up some friction, the promise of a little heat from the brisk movement. My mind wandered off with the same hurry....

Prayer to go

January 9, 2025

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| Prose

Help my impulse, let only the purest emerge, don't allow me to think, enough pondering has been done here. Rush me toward my truest reality, that sudden drive to your designed road, that which is my true node, the vector of my mission. Whisper it to me in sleep, the ending words ever so loud, definite phrases to broaden my glance, to see the path set forth, and faith awaiting those first steps. Appease this mind and its lunar phases,...

Autumn shades

January 5, 2025

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| Family, Family History, Prose

You’re dissolving, an invisible flame burns the pages quietly in the stillness of your study. Ashen skies glow softly, cradling the twilight sun; soft autumn light drizzles between branches, beyond the sliding window of your routine. You're are fading, while scribbling the usual, at your desk. My body only wants a moment, this very one, no past or future, no history to tell, no projections for tomorrow. In this way I will disappear too, and though you'll remember I was...

Drive

December 28, 2024

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| Prose

I need only dive in a sea of potential meaning, fish for a description, a new adjective manifest in musical vibrations, from the Avant Garde keynotes pouring into the cabin. So I drive on, protected in a bubble of steel and glass, the inner sea swishes against its walls. Words to give substance, while the horizon turns an angle; the skyline slips behind dull buildings; the ground tilts, and suddenly, this planet might not be as round. I might be...

Category: Prose

Ancient Stag

Omens on the AM

Stripping Down

Disillusion

Vulture

Slither

Rite of Passage

Prayer to go

Autumn shades

Drive

A 2 Voiced Life

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