A fierce battle of the cold front and the hot army is upon us - fallen soldiers descend as torrential rain.

The opposing masses approach us at break neck speed, positively churning with rage and battle lust. The pressure and tension is tangible, rising by the second as the two sides come ever closer to their éclat.

Our side is heavy with anticipation, on an unstoppable course of action, as is the other. The buzzing energy is drawing us to one another ever more quickly. There have been many, nay an infinite number of such battles, never resulting in anything but fallen soldiers, followed by an empty battlefield.

Nevertheless, we shall continue to meet one another headfirst, battling, falling, winning, loosing. What does it matter in the end? All comrades must fall, some just do it earlier than others. My fellow fighters are above, under, to my sides, swarming with the buzz of anticipation, and I buzz along with them, quivering with the energy of the battlefield.

(Based on a former tweet)

Sugar Rush

"To much sugar can’t be a good thing", she reflected, as a faint bubbling sensation in her stomach reminded her of her earlier indulgence.

Suddenly, it stopped. There was a sudden clear popping sound interrupting her thoughts, as she gasped up a perfect globe of sugar, which had evidently travelled up her intestines and food pipe. Her uncut toenails and neatly trimmed finger ones started to fizzle and crack, until a sudden growth spurt hit them and they shot off her in white crystals, curving and curling around her twig-like arms, encompassing her mass. Her skin was overcome by terrible convulsions, transforming into candy paper and liquorice and gooey caramel. Her very bones trembled and elongated and convulsed as they shaped into hardened sugar canes, brittle to the touch. The muscles surrounding them turned into strands of gelatinous gummy worms, weaving their way through her body. Her veins, too, transmuted their baggage, now carrying sugared sirup instead of oxygenized blood. Her brain, by now a mess of vermicelli, collapsed into an incoherent mess of heaping strands. Her candied body began to glow, and eventually shoot off white hot light towards the end of her transformation,

At its conclusion, she vanished, leaving behind a single red gumdrop.

Escalator, I'll Kill You Later

To the horrible escalator

Located in the middle of the mall,

Existing solely to make them hate her,

Wasting further time as she stalls.

Although you wish to elevate her,

She prefers the use of her own two feet.

Your location serves as a campaign maker,

For further bits and bobs and treats.

In search of her mother’s favors,

She is forced to cross your lengths.

Even when she never waivers,

She is lost in the chaos of your steps.

In comparison to your cousins, you are flatter,

Taking half an eternity to climb three feet.

Timeless, senseless, surrounded by chit chatter,

Again, she and the wrong end of yourself meet.

So hear this dear escalator,

Stuck on the same track for ever more,

What she says is: “I’ll kill you later!”,

While despairingly hunting for the staircase door.