They can bury me, beneath ten, a hundred, a thousand corpses. I won’t care. Suffocate me with the dead, fix me in place with carrion for a casket. It means nothing. When morning comes, and it will, I’ll rise again….
Another piece from No Cure for Shell Shock today… There are no secrets here. No lies, no surreptitious half truths, no unwitting falsehoods. It’s terrifying. This honesty. This stripped down, acid cleansed, bare-bones city of truth. Full of brutalised inhabitants,…
I’ve been here before. I’d almost forgotten, but I’ve walked these streets. Back when they were streets, defined by walls and pavements and order. I’ve met these people too, back when they were people. Is that right? Did they stop…
They did dark work. Heavy work. Barbaric work, some people said – but never for long and never too loudly. ‘Who cared?’ was his reply. At the slaughter house his father did dark work, heavy work, even barbaric work as…
It was the third column of the day. The novelty had worn off now, the mood had changed. On the arrival of the first one, marked by an earth trembling roar of diesel engines groaning their way through barely passable…
