The Amazing Devil
- Fair
It's what my heart just yearns to sing, in ways that can't be said. It's what my rotting bones will say when the rest of me is dead. It's what's engraved upon my heart in letter deeply worn. Today I somehow understand the reason I was born. Cos outwardly he says I try so hard to make you laugh at me, and she, she does, she laughs as though she's not heard the joke ten thousand times before. And he adores her, he watches her get dressed as though she's hurtling through time.
working on J
- Three Wishes
A genie can grant you three wishes. They are magic. A few days ago I got a package in the mail. My jaw dropped when I opened it and found a jewelled lamp inside. I rubbed the lamp and out came the genie. They told me "you have three wishes, but judge wisely." First I wished I could play the banjo. POOF! And it was done. Then I wished I could have endless apple juice. POOF! And it was done. For my last wish I asked to fly on a jet like a secret agent. POOF! And it was done.
working on J
- My Favourite Jeans
I have written more than 500 pages in my journal. I write about everything. Like the time I flew on a jet to Japan to compete in the high jump in the Olympics. I have seen a jaguar in the African jungle. I have been to Egypt where I ate jelly beans while jumping over jealous kids. During all of this, I wore my favourite jeans. I think I'll pour some juice and write about my jeans in my journal.
working on J
- Jerry The Juggler
Jerry the giant liked to juggle and do magic. His favourite thing to juggle was jelly beans. This was hard to do with giant hands, but Jerry liked the challenge. His favourite trick was to make his jacket disappear and then reappear, with a jar full of jam in it. He had performed his juggling and magic show in strange places. Once at a juice festival in Japan, another at a college for juvenile jellyfish.
Jonathan Sims
- Revolutions Magnus Archives 165 - p3
The world in which the carousel will twirl is not the hollow hell you fear; it is the world. Just the world. A world where if you'd wished to have a name it must be stolen, carved and pulled full-bloody from the frame of others who would wish in vain to hold their selfness close. You want a face? Take it.
Jonathan Sims
- Revolutions Magnus Archives 165 - p2
The music swells through you. The music calls a name that through the tears of half-grasped memories seems almost and eternally familiar. So dance. Dance to the beat of the thump of the chase of the still and plastic horse hooves which cannot break from where they are secured by bolts and glue and eggshell-thin reality that paints a visage of sense almost enough to tell you that the nausea that swells and pushes at the limits of your mind is incorrect. There's nothing wrong.
Jonathan Sims
- Revolutions Magnus Archives 165 - p1
Your face is not your face is not your face around the curling carousel it twists in place to take from you and all the tattered stolen souls whose sense of me is swollen and distended into nothing. Round and round and round it goes and when it deigns to stop who you might be you cannot know, so touch and feel the skin atop your skull to test the limits and extremities of where this canvas comes to rest, in robbed identities and peeling names that you could swear were never yours.
