The Forbidden Amour

So deadly is the sin. Yet so sweet is the blood. Is it wrong to love your prey? The scent of its skin wanders off. I don’t even know this creature. I have a purpose to accomplish . . .

Close to the End


I was in a shell boat, in one transient wave of ooze; the ooze of spinal fluids, hands, feet and fingers of my brothers and sisters and their brothers and sisters. I had a slotted spoon for an oar, a lifejacket and my ship, my Nina, Pinta, or Santa Maria dumped me in the pool, the pool of my family . . .

Two Years


I can hear the black flies, the campfire, the light. At the chapel— the one with the green roof— my grandfather’s name is fading At night inside, the moths trapped inside the walls are dead and the book where I read: The men who moil for gold is misplaced . . .

When I’m Lonely


close the curtains over the moon, it’s time to go to sleep buenasera my beloved. and once you are gone, I’ll draw back the hallowed curtains, the moon reflecting my face, and I will kiss the window pane and whisper, ‘vanity is a virtue.’ and I will bathe myself in heathen light and I will blow pink spheres over my bared body delight in the only forever left when the sun shines, my darling, we’ll do dancing selflessly together and I’ll be in Puerto Rico with the officer of my dreams . . .


Forever unhappy Forever alone Forever in pain Forever a stone Forever a lie Forever I cry Forever I stay hidden inside Forever decaying, no heart remaining Forever ashamed, no one to blame Forever more, a closed door Forever is not something I want to live for . . .

High Horse


Combing the smooth, snow white tail of a tall albino pony A figure of chastity I look into its eyes and struggle with my addictions. It feels good when it’s tracking my veins And running right through me So fast it takes over my mind . . .

Single Word Inspiration


The writing exercise I would recommend to anyone is to set a timer for 5 or 10 minutes. Choose a random word from a handy book, start the timer and write, inspired by this word, without stopping or crossing out until the timer goes off . . .

Author of the Month: David Layton

Tell us about yourself. This is the sort of alarming question that inevitably leads towards the false accounting of a resume. I’ll let others try to describe me, preferably when I’m out of earshot. When did you realize you had a passion for writing? I’m not sure I ever had one . . .