Posted in stream of consciousness

Less

The human memory is notoriously faulty.

Janine no longer remembered if she saw the light or if it was just the surgeons blinding head lamp as he crawled into her mother’s cavernous heart in attempt to save her.

Janine no longer remembered if she merely thought the words or if they actually slipped between her gritted teeth.

“Don’t bother, there’s nothing there to save.”

With all his gracious intent, the doctor took her hands.

“I did all I could but it just couldn’t be done.”

Janine couldn’t slam the gate fast enough, “You could’ve done less.”

No prompt to speak of.
Music: Moon Duo

Posted in stream of consciousness

The Truth Have I Murdered

Music: All Them Witches – Dying Surfer Meets His Maker
Taken loosely from the idea of a lyrical essay

The boy doesn’t love you.

And why should he?

Don’t “please mister” me …

You’re the culprit here. Look at those hands, doused in red.

Disgust! That’s what I feel when I look at you.

The truth deserved better.

Better than being dragged by your breathless frame,

Heaving from the act,

Down the drain.

Witless.

I’ll ask you again.

When no was the answer …

Why didn’t you just give in?

Posted in stream of consciousness, Word Prompt

In The Garden

Verdant – RDP word of the day
Music – Dirty Three – Self titled

Luscious.
Fertile.
Sasha’s garden was everything Mari could never inspire in her own. Her belly too, round with verdant life in a way Mari would never know.

Obsession.
Jealousy.
Rage in Mari’s veins blossomed as she feigned excitement for Sasha’s burgeoning life. Sasha’s roses brought home awards. Her daffodils sailed into a spotlight all their own. The baby kicked while she laughed on.

Inspired.
Alone.
Mari took to a rusted axe in order to get the job done.

I forgot to time myself but I intended to aim for 5 minutes to start. This probably took about that long.

Posted in stream of consciousness

Pity Party (Repost)

She awoke one fine cupcake morning,
Blue skies and nary a cloud in sight.
Village windows remained shuttered,
Terrific beasts tethered to the night.
It was a fine day indeed.
She had the invitations,
Colloquial and drawn in invisible ink.
Balloons of her favorite shades,
Faded blues and washed out grays,
Floated about the room;
Specters all their own.
Nine thirty and a quarter past second five.
She clasped her hands,
Breathing anticipation,
When only a strangers shadow
Fell upon the door.
“Am I late?”
An echo from empty marble halls.
“I do love parties after all.”
She tugged at cotton candy curls
And a dress of a more bland sort.
“Of course, of course.
Just lay your grievances down here.
After all, isn’t that what pity parties are for?”

Between how overwhelmed I’ve been pretty much all year at this point and a looming sense of becoming stuck in the status quo I’ve honestly felt like shit lately. I feel stuck, unimportant, unmotivated, uninspired and so very much like a total failure. I get to points where I wonder if every decision I’ve ever made has been the wrong one. Since I found myself having a pity party … Here we are

Posted in stream of consciousness

Subscription

I signed up for more but it seems they lost the paperwork.
I can reason it away.
What’s life but missed words?
I’d cancel early but the fee is too high.

Sorry for my lack of anything lately. I’ve been busy, stressed … insanely tired, etc.

Posted in stream of consciousness

Space For Rent

I am a study in the degradation of the human soul. Precisely measured and trapped by each small piece of past gathering dust on my clutter laden shelves.

Spaces of consequence are eternally lumbered from deceit to deceit as I pretend in a mirror and proclaim myself a minimalist.

Ounces of effort leak from joints and jowls too slow to understand and too burdened to disagree.

I struggle to settle, fight against the outlines of a person bearing my name. I grasp for dreams while never believing they belong to me.

This canvas, blank and forever in states of disaster, is a space defiled until I learn.

These walls are mine, mine alone, and there is no blaring sign declaring “space for rent” across my skin.

Posted in stream of consciousness

iPhone Prefers Ducks

I don’t mean to say it so much
But sometimes this world *d*ucking sucks.
And when I’m frustrated
I don’t really want my phone to trade my violent words
For small feathery creatures,
Perhaps in hopes it will quell raging digits.
Somehow it works and I laugh at the absurdity
Of our materialism
And our in love yet in loathe relationships
With AI and short fuses.
Then I think of you
And my words come to a jumbling, clotting stop
Because I’ve long preferred making myself small
In hopes that avoidance of everything big
Will render me no more than the innocent bystander to a life
I’ve never felt in control of.
Maybe I’ve always believed I didn’t deserve the beauty you gave me.
It doesn’t erase the emptiness,
Or the memories of the last time I truly felt home etched in my soul.
But I can’t type “fuck” because iPhone prefers ducks.