joystick trance

he slithered in and proceeded to skillfully steer his joystick-controlled wheelchair into a suitable space. the bus was far from being crammed and the author couldn't help but focus on the middle-aged man's hands. some CPU disorder had fucked his hard-drive. the aftermath was focalized on his hands.. they now boasted a queer sort of nonchallance that could not be entirely accounted for by the involuntary rhythmic spasms whimsically seizing them now and again...

a woman whose slight palsy  would have otherwise gone unnoticed started to seemingly shake her head to the beat that the joystick hand had set. a trance induced by the oddest of unisons seemed to follow. life can be unpredictably implausible and a darkly comically riotous cunt.

heavy jewel

heavy jewel magnet-like, her heavy stride made me turn to glare intently at her. i hardly recognized her. she didn't blink and went about her trash can rummaging business as usual like she had just unsuccessfully made an attempt to slap a tiny fly with the back of her left hand.

heavy jewel last time i saw her it didn't really register with me; the transformation had been well under way by then, of course, but it hadn't been as blatantly brutal. her flesh had bloated under her skin. true, even now she was by no means obese, just chubby, a seedily ugly shade of chubby, though. and her face...and her soul...

heavy jewel a skinny romanian princess of the city underworld. she had been an unlikely goddess.

heavy jewel her eyes were dead now. no light lurked in those anymore. the streets are ruthless cunts.