Remember yesterday when I said it would be available really soon? I meant today.
“If your friends jumped off a bridge would you jump too?”
Well mom, looks like we know the answer.
In my defense, it was only 3 feet off the ground.
Surely I would’ve come to my senses before diving off anything higher.
You’re not amused. It’s ok, I get it.
It wasn’t in your weekend plans to care for this ungrateful snot you call a daughter.
I hop to the window, wave to my friends and part of me wonders …
Would they believe you pushed me if I jumped again?
The world has been chewing us up
And forgetting to spit us out
I’ve been doing a lot of these random small not-poetry things lately. They encompass the way I feel, like my head’s about to explode at any moment. I tell myself things will get better and I truly believe they will, but sitting in the discomfort of this entire year (or an entire existence) … it’s been an experience.
As if the stiff lipped fear ever meant we could stay.
A collective thought grew among us, slow and warming, passed in the offering plate from one to another and nurtured with each passing hand.
Who are we to stay?
In the darkness we gathered what little we could claim and disconnected ourselves from this place.
Incorporating a couple of the daily words. Abberation from FOWC and emerge from RDP.
I had a dream
That I overflowed
And starlight lit my visions
But they were no longer mine
Instead they were plucked off the ground
Ripe fruit tempting those who passed
I’m trying again to write every day. I have to get myself back into the habit of sitting down and making time.
You don’t notice me
I can’t help but imagine
My name dripping from your mouth
A spoonful of soup
Slurped while still boiling
Forming welts on your lips
And your chin
Where I kissed you
Last time you remembered me
You don’t now
But I hope
I can’t think
So I peel away my skin
Long strips of thought
I can’t hope to hold onto
Though we hope things will get better soon we still have so many steps to go. I hope everyone is doing ok.
“I was surprised you agreed to get BBQ with me.”
“Why? I know the importance of good BBQ. I am from here remember?”
“Oh, fuck off, it is not.”
He tossed a sugar packet in my direction.
“For your ‘unsweet’ tea.”
I stared out the window, wondering if things would ever be the same.
“Seriously, what are you going to eat?”
“Well, I do love fried okra.”
“You’re going to eat fried okra? That’s it?”
“I don’t think anyone likes okra that much.”
“Blasphemy. Fried okra is the best okra.”
“Why are you here?”
Word Count: 99
Returning to Friday Fictioneers , after forever, with an only dialogue piece.
PHOTO PROMPT – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Nails in the flesh
Digging though muscle
Until you feel the bone
To disgust, love, jealousy
In this most absurd of years I must ask: Have you voted?
To let your vitriol
Contaminate my IV of life