Posted in stream of consciousness

Today You Won

Today I wondered
What I’d done to survive this long.
How have I
Kept seeing blue skies?
Thoughts kept quiet,
Crept steadily forward.
You weren’t there
But I felt you at my back.
Your voice becomes
The beat to my degenerative drum.
Today, you won.

Posted in stream of consciousness

Weapons of Mass Destruction

I haven’t done this in a week or two and I need some help getting things stirred around again so here we go.

Prompt: Narcissism *of course it is*

Music: Ghostpoet – Dark Days + Canapés (very much recommend him)

Alright, 10 minutes on narcissism – here we go ….

You like guns, weapons of mass destruction
Requirements in a world
You see.
Blow down walls,
Abstract pieces of death
For everything
You never knew you could be.
Shreds of humanity
Staring back at you
From garbage bag souls.
Gaping mouths
Of back alley way holes,
Well, well little girl
How’d you end up here?
Masks are the one thing
You ever truly taught me.
Paint them, wear them
Paste that smile,
Statesman handshake
With a flick of the wrist
And darling doe eyes
Bait for the next fight.
Perfection in reality,
Matching clothes and
Cringes at your words,
Smooth as silk,
Like slime sliding
Down sewer walls
Called home.
Bruises you can see
Complemented by deadly cuts
Worthless unless you find value
In our innocence,
Value in our ignorance.
Cut down inch by inch,
Your guns, weapons of mass destruction
Leave nothing but
Rubble in their wake.

Posted in Word Prompt

Constant Reminders

How strange it is
Moving from life with no photos on the wall
To life littered with drawn out dumpster diving memorials
Over every square inch of sallow hued space
Covering the holes drunkenly skewered
Leaving shards of drywall souls in my hair
Chaotically dancing over my shoulders
Constant reminders,
Next time the mark won’t be missed
Like the fading yellowed flesh wounds
Wrapping around my neck
As I’m held down and told to beg for more
That’s not sex …
It’s not love
In this house of a thousand shattered mirrors
Each fragmenting side of me
Further splintering with every fresh assault
Each small rip of tender fiber that makes my being whole
How many shades can there be today