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I feel an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation in my lips, tugging them upward. This is... new.

Isaac Marion

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Isaac Marion
Age: 42
Born: 1981
Born: December 30
Music Journalist
Novelist
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Lips
Feel
Feels
Tugging
Upward
Unfamiliar
Sensation
Sensations
Pleasant

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It’s sad to see them staring wistfully through the window when the door isn’t locked.
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A month ago there was nothing on Earth I missed, enjoyed, or longed for. I knew I could lose everything and not feel anything, and I rested easy in that knowledge. But I'm growing tired of easy things.
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What's the point of trying to fix a world we're so briefly in?
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It's rare that I read more than two or three books by any one author, usually only one.
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If there are rules, we're the ones making them. We can change them whenever we want to.
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It's a strange feeling, being so utterly surrounded by her. Her life scent is on everything. She's on me and under me and next to me. It's as if the entire room is made out of her.
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My favorite songs change every year.
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Warm Bodies ended up becoming one of the most personal relatable things I've written.
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I notice faint scars on her wrists and forearms, thin lines too symmetrical to be accidents.
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I wince at her use of the word human. I've never liked that differentiation. She is living and I'm dead, but we're both human. Call me an idealist.
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I sigh inside, so exhausted by these ugly questions, but when did a monster ever deserve its privacy?
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How do I appear unthreatening when her lover's blood is running down my chin?
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In my palm I can feel the echo of her pulse, standing in for the absense of mine.
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I'm not a general or a colonel or a builder of cities. I'm just a corpse who wants not to be.
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Why is it beautiful that humanity keeps coming back? So does herpes.
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