Draft Work

My own writing – fiction, poetry, random snippets

Maggots: Mass Effect 3 Shenko Drabble

Draft Work, Fanworks

That boy had followed her into the stars, was haunting her. A blur of dead, so many little boys and their mothers, their brothers and sisters. All of them dishonored and left for the maggots who seemed to be the only other winners on the field – save the Reapers. The Reapers didn’t even have the decency to make use of what they killed, to feed. There was no meaning but annihilation. Arran needed to make sense of the terror that had become the very boundaries of her life. So maybe her unconscious fixated on a child, on what could have been if she’d never been ordered on that fateful shakedown cruise to Eden Prime, and twisted him, left him to the fire. It made a shitty kind of sense.

Weather Poem

Draft Work, Poetry

And then, it recedes
into a rain
Intent, thick, swollen, sick.
Screaming against the skylights, shields,
asphalt and
drowning worms.

And still the dog barks

Draft Work, Poetry

I don’t know how to respond
to this compliment
which I wrangle into place
by surrounding it
by self-deprecation,
direct their view to the rest of my body governing
these wee, elfin, gnomish hands,
these tiny, childlike empress
earlobes, these miniaturized, precious
bitty feets
being elephantine.
Sluggish. Immorally decadent, extruded
ill-formed
and an asymmetric center askew
from its poles.

Avast

Draft Work, Poetry

There were epics in which I never uncovered my face,
though I saved you
from the cannibals desirous
of your scalp,
from the Lorelai,
from the mirages in the desert that sung your true name.

Love Myth

Draft Work, Poetry

We clap out a reveille and sing
against each other
against the braise of the road,
like we are a constant twenty-one
gun salute praising prairie
grass, dogs, and fire.

Elan Vitae

Draft Work

A muffled noise, the feeling of sheets being draped over and pulled away from his body inch by inch, one by one until the darkness…

The Riveter

Draft Work

He said nothing, and didn’t pull a pack from his pants pocket the way she’d hoped. Instead, he just stared at her, in that ravenous way of theirs, a way she’d seen up close only once before.
Breaking the painful silence, she snapped open the purse again and pulls a little cigarette and lighter from some secret compartment, and lit it herself with a knowing, blase click. As she inhaled, she considered that his exhaustion and despair left him vulnerable in a way she was not entirely prepared for.

Delphi

Draft Work, Poetry

How you strain to find the swiftness
to catch me.
How I struggle for the stillness
to be caught.

Two Cakes a Wrapper

Draft Work, Poetry

ramen noodles require a microwave
you steal twinkies instead,
thinking how lil’ debbie wants
to
insinuate
that you are a ding dong,
a ho ho,
or a molten, indigestible square of the Devil