Cosmik Wolfpack is a playground and laboratory for flash-formed poetry and nanofiction written by The Debtor, a white cisgender male and citizen of the United States.
If you have something to say to the author, send it to cosmikwolfpack at gmail dot com.
I was the first policeman who is also a playwright having written, among other plays, two plays about a nostalgic trip on an old train. Over a paella and a glass of Rioja, I prevent the cats from sleeping.
Dealing with the challenges of eating is not so easy. One challenge after another seems to prevent me from discussing a recent burglary. The cats will be guilty of nefarious murders.
There's a grandeur in our twisted romance, a doomed glamour. You slap my face and spit in my food. I invent florid insults, precisely engineered to dig into your deepest anxieties. In our ruin, we dance around each other, blades in our quivering fists, fingers clenched so tightly that their very tissues have merged and hardened. Occasionally, we blindly manage to make contact, slicing.
Years hence, when we have fallen to the ground and lost our eyes and tongues and the vital essence in each of us has leaked out and commingled in the parched soil, our final resting place will be marked by a wretched tree.
Our flesh freed from the disintegrated muscle and bone dust inside, we will be found by a curious wanderer who will mistake our flesh for an ancient scroll, our lacerations as a story written the glyphs of a lost language.
A dangerous animal who is in the garden pond turns himself purple. Though he causes her no end of problems and embarrassment, the mistress is not quite willing to wear a muzzle.
A talented footballer steals special chocolates and baby teeth. He looks adorable but he has his own special way of injuring himself with dripping paint. He eats Bank Robbers!