The plunger sinks
I’m in the middle of a poppy field
Red sea
One stapled to my chest in remembrance
Attached to ecstasy
A drop of blood escapes from the hole in my skin
The syringe falls to the floor accompanied by a limp hand.
In this poppy field
Nothing is real
I hope I didn’t load too many words..
My last thought, before passing out,
From fiction.
I'm from Scotland, where everyone owns a castle and pisses whisky. Some of the preceding sentence may contain factual errors.
I've been writing and reading for a long old time. I'm now trying to get into the published material side of things. I'm building up a bank of short story material and finding my legs in the long story side of things..
Hold on..I need shortbread..that's better..now where was I?
Like all good writers I have written a vast amount of stuff and like children's school meals large portions of it remain unfinished.
I write about all sorts, largely drawing my inspiration from real life events, futuristic musings and the dark recess of my mind. I say recess, it's the only recess, it's got to hold everything.
Enjoy the blog once it's up and running with material and please feel free to link me and share your work.
TWITTER: @FionnGrant
View all posts by LionAroundWriting
