Moon Desert
Bio
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where wild roses grow full of words...
Stories (966)
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Soulhulk
They lie fallow like an unploughed field. Immobilised, never fulfilled. Like abandoned ships on the beach waiting for their turn. It will never come in their shallow lives. They never fully realise their disadvantage as a dredge. A sweet monetary deal is the best reward for all their hardships. That will be all. That is enough. On weekends, they roar and rampage, repine and reciprocate. For all the malice they encountered during the days spent in the shade. They want to be prominent; they want to rule. Due to the lack of royal reality next to them. The only veracity they accept is the zoo. Despite the stormy weather and hateful faces around. They need to have fun, no matter the time. They don’t pay, government funds wasted on education fuelled by alcohol and drugs.
By Moon Desert2 years ago in Fiction
Soul-Soaking
You can't judge it by appearance. Intrusive, inquisitive, elusive digging will liven things up. Sometimes it's just an arm in a sling. It has the quality of suffering felt so deeply that the entire soul is torn apart. And nothing can be done except a sympathetic nod.
By Moon Desert2 years ago in Fiction
Contemplary
They stretched out on the openwork mosaic chairs in front of the antique shop, like a wild rose on a strange tree or on a rusty fence nearby. They smoke cigarettes. They think, travel, traverse. But they never leave their chairs. They dream of visiting Queen St. Brew House on Saturday to join the crowd and be someone. But they are never among the other regulars roaring like lions, unleashing their instincts and making a difference only for themselves.
By Moon Desert2 years ago in Fiction
