Gris Lee Stories

On cold days like this one there’s nothing quite like curling up in dressing gown with the fire on. I’m bundled up in my chair along with my darling child. She snores gently, like a kitten. The way she wriggles from dreaming in that sunshine yellow onesie warms my heart on a winter’s day like this one. Her presence seems to also have caught the attention of Maurice, who’s peering gently over at Lucy in my arms. His large frame barely stays settled on the couch as it is and it’s reaching the point where I’m concerned he’ll topple himself over. In spite of this, his focus seems solely set on little Lucy. Not even the cartoons on the television have his attention. When he’s not with Nigel I can usually plop him right of the thing so as to keep him out of trouble. Lord knows what problems would arise if he were without supervision. That childlike glimmer of curiosity in his eyes is starting to play into my motherly instincts however. I cave in. “Would you like to hold her Maurice

Inspired whilst watching the anime film Akira. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Rubber licks the concrete A bitter, drawn out kiss along the dirt No grass Only riot guards Fixated behind their mirrored glasses Plain sight hiding Watching who passes Only me My friends And our five metal steeds Who pay no heed To pigs in wolves clothing As we glide we are blind To the towers scraping skies To the smiles spouting lies To the signs The badges The mindless flies Screaming stop Or our helmet heads Will be on chopping blocks Still, we ride Knights in leather jackets Forming a crusade against commercialism A fight against fascism A massacre on the modern world With anarchy symbols painted on our shields And we yield for nothing less Than the freedom To fuck shit up

A poem about the experience of being non-binary. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don’t seem to fit Easily into categories I’m a living contradiction Too much, too little Of one thing Or another My brain doesn’t work in boxes But open fields and curved lines My mind pales In the wake Of male and female I’m a little bit of both But not enough of either I seem to fail your tests Of what is normal As if there’s a formal agreement I mean I’m fine with it But you’re not So I’ll give it a shot To explain It’s like a song I know Too Normal, Too Weird Well I’m Too pink for the blue Too blue for the pink But you don’t think It can be that way You don’t understand But of course You can’t understand When your perspective Is pink And blue But I don’t need you to I just need you to Open your eyes Recognise That’s there’s more t

Extended version of The Lizard Wizard piece for university coursework. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I sneeze for the umpteenth time from the unsettled dust sprites using my home as a shedding spot. The glass tube I’m holding slithers between my fingers, though I’m able to recover just in time to tighten my grip. The murky green liquid swirling inside sloshes and settles. My cumbersome hat flops over my eyes. I breathe a sigh of relief. The last thing I need is another accident in the workshop. There’s a reason that the nobles all refuse to keep replacing my assistants. Bah! Humans have proven useless to me anyway. I don’t once regret holing myself at the helm of this old tower. Sure, it may be cold, dim and home to horde of dust sprites but the isolation is invigorating. Also, since I’ve situated myself upon the edge of the town, I am privy to the finest view of the forest. I