Saphyr88

St Petersburg, 1917        There wasn't a sound. Not to human ears at any rate, but even William's keen hearing was only picking up the distant, muffled sounds of murmuring heartbeats and breathing. Each of them sang out in counter rhythms, like well-oiled machines hissing gently full of steam. Some of them were sleeping, but there were a few, even inside this proletariat building, who lay awake.                William greatly respected the way Lenin had managed to twist Marx's words. When he'd seen the posters, read the papers, listene

* I lay empty from my soul, back against rough soil beneath my hand, sun scorch'd my eyes and lips, and skin, to feel so little lies within. From out the hazy white, I see the dark shadow of a bird come to claim me, and circle my body, as I lay out stretched – my arms above mine head. She taunts me with those feathers, black, and brown, and red – her height, the distance short then long between, when we all know what shall be in the end, she is but a vulture come, to unpick me, tear flesh from bone. And I lay gladly beneath those claws, that press and drag along to find – what's left. What did I used to be? A m