Is there a word
Which defines perfectly
How you push me
Moving me forward
On words scripted for the stars
Today’s stream of consciousness write, brought to you with background influence of Mogwai’s new album zerozerozero. Also, I made a little stick figure story for you.
I’m trying to connect
But the signal’s too spotty
Have you guys seen Westworld? I haven’t either but the soundtrack? Recommended.
Or as it’s really called, stream of consciousness Sunday. That’s just a lot to type and 100% honest, I spell consciousness wrong 100% of the time.
Your feelings are a beast of a person
But we know you don’t always want to feel
So we can just rip them out
The spine of everything human
Connected to every nervous tick
Can just be peeled right off
For your enjoyment
I’ve done everything to trigger what memories are left
Impressions on the soul with a smell and taste but no vision
It must be so hard to be good
While dropping your prayers Into a liars stew
I have a goal of doing a stream of consciousness write everyday to get myself back to the habit and writing every day.
I thought about writing
Full but empty
With shirts ripped and stained
And jeans frayed
But life got in the way
So I stuffed my feelings
To the back of the drawer
Just another shirt
Paint stained and bloodied
To be forgotten
But easily retrieved
In the depths of a dresser
Stuffed with regrets
Just like me
Where were you
When I couldn’t stand With your impetuous knocking On the windows of my mind A killer In the shadows Driving me
It was an impetuous knock on the old wooden door.
It was Margot’s corked shoes tapping. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap. It was the shrill cries of children that weren’t mine. It was the old tile with its yellow triangles inside blue circles And the slow boiling blood stripping it clean.
Two quick stream of consciousness type things for the RDP prompt of the day. Also, check out Pint Sized Lit
Blood on my finger
Like a rusted crown Ripped from my fathers scalp Flung to the ground
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RDP: Cherish FOWC: Avarice
There’s a man hoarding his words
Cherishing each breath Snatching it from the air Dirty fingers shoving between thin lips As he swallows without tasting The sour avarice of words unsaid
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I wish …
The point when things spiral An ellipsis Hinting there could be more But as human as we are We forget to finish the sentence
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