Author Archives: ashlomen

About ashlomen

I am a self-destructive, lazy writer/poet... wasting my full potential on a world that doesn’t care.

“Paindance”

…  your swansong was a sonnet your death spasms mock coitus and the crack of your ribcage is the whisper of a long lost lover nothing more nothing less (for I can go no lower) … Advertisements

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untitled

… like Leng Tch’e for my hemophilic heart your love is draining to say the least … so salt the earth and pull the trigger … I want to kiss the void your lips have grown bitter …

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LOVEAFTERLIFE

   … It was like twisting porcelain into a knot flesh everwhite undeath in my arms  … I plucked out her spine as if uprooting a delicate flower  … and still she was kissing me  … her headless body riding … Continue reading

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COPIES OF A COPY

The gaping wound in my chest skips a beat. She stands atop the pile of her dead sisters, dragging loose circuitry and pink noise behind her as she descends. The inflammable air around us ignores the sparks; the moment is … Continue reading

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“Liarskin”

  like the ratsnake I have pulled back old skin but I am still a rat …

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“Old Bones, New Sins”

  my old bones ache for you  in a pile, in a cave, in a jungle, older than the sickly green sun that shines upon it … they remain unbleached, waiting for you to drag them from the darkness and let … Continue reading

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The Serial Experiment Part 4

“Stitches Coming Undone” ~  Ash Lomen Tommy soon found out why the humans hated Stitchmen so much. Stitchmen were damned hard to kill, perfect for labor… but even better for revolution. Blood on the streets and not an ounce of … Continue reading

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“The Serial Experiment: Part 1”

  After you read “Factory Boys” you might want visit Garrett’s blog and find out the idea (and the game) behind this story (“Factory Boys” is just the name of a ‘chapter’ if you want to call it that). as … Continue reading

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“Factory Boys”

“Part 1. Factory Boys” (Part of an ongoing story with Garrett Cook) By Ash Lomen   Tommy the Stitchman sat, baggy saftypined pants spread out like a dress, on a little corner in a big factory town named Steamroe. The time-forgotten, … Continue reading

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“The Black, The White, And The Hatless”

“I’m fuckin’ dying here man!” ~ Mr. Orange … “I’m fuckin’ dying here man!” Set screamed out before he made his final move. The boy’s swing was hardly even a proper punch; the wild haymaker was instead more akin to an … Continue reading

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