Be my air, be my sweetness, be my tumble into giddy darkness - be the sort that brings the most ridiculous joy. Let's melt into this party, melt into the beat and sweat until our hearts call for the luxury of bed and the chaos of our entwined dreams.


My parents were going to go crazy. The music was so loud that it made my skin tingle and my lungs feel like mush. The bass thumped in time with my heart beat as though they were one, filling me from head to toe with music. I liked this song.
Over the roar of music, a distant, hazy chatter could be heard. I couldn’t make out any words, but laughter rang in my ears and wouldn’t seem to stop. The song that was playing got louder, pulling me in and wouldn’t let go. I had no choice but to join the crowd, jumping in a huddled group like Tic-Tacs being shaken in a box.

By ronnie, November 5, 2014.

Authored by me , here.


The music was as loud as thunder; it made the cutlery on the tabletops rattle. Neon lights flashed everywhere like police sirens, but much more colourful.

By swizzlemcfluff, November 24, 2013.

Welcome back! I’ve been waiting for you by the window and then you go and appear sitting at the dining table in that faded t-shirt of yours I love so much. You’ve done something with your hair, or maybe it’s just your eyes. Either way you just lit up my room. I had been resigned to a dark day under a dense cloud sheet and now it doesn’t even matter. I have a ray of God given sunshine at my table. Radiant, my dear, you are radiant. Let me tell you about a party I threw last night, sixty people came. Can you imagine? So many folks in my humble home, eh? It was all wonderful until I realised I’d bought the wrong things at the store. I had the finest steaks but they were so expensive I only bought six. I began to think of how to decide who to feed. I could cut the steaks in half to feed twelve, but which twelve? How do I decide who to feed? Maybe I’ll pick the ones I like best, the ones who do me favours, then I’ll get steak at their house. Or maybe I should pick the ones the same religion as me, we groups are supposed to stick together, right? Or I could feed just the youngest, or just the oldest. It was such a dilemma I called my thirteen year old. She looked at me like I was denser than a deep sea rock and pulled out a sack of brown rice, some onions and spices. “You can eat normal food with your friends ya know, Mom.” Then she rolled her eyes and went back to texting. It turns out there was enough food to go around all along, I just had to open my eyes and see what was right in front of me. Kids are awesome, aren’t they? I think so.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, March 26, 2015.

Found in Are you awake yet? - first draft, authored by Daisy.


Inconsequent polite conversation, canapes, wine.

By angela, January 9, 2012.