Posted in stream of consciousness, Word Prompt

Insane

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

Posted in flash fiction

Experiments in Humanity – Stream of Conciousness Saturday

“Hey there hon, what would you like?”

Toki felt a rush of endorphins as her human counterpart, Katrina, took in the male in front of her. His teeth glistened unnaturally against his sun damaged skin. 

“What are the options sweetheart?” His deeper voice sent shivers through Katrina.

Toki could barely think over the quickly increasing noise Katrina’s pounding heart made.

“Well, coffee, tea or me …” The sentence careened from confidence to shyness with the “me” barely whispered.

Why is her voice undulating into that sickly tone?

Blood rushed through Katrina’s viens, something Toki could also feel even if she’d rather not. The male’s smile stretched across his narrow face. He closed in on Katrina, grossly violating what Toki had learned were the human distancing requirements. 

“Well, I know what I’ll choose.” His warm breath brushed by Katrina’s ear. 

Toki hated these overwhelming sensations. The blood rushing around the body, the amount of noise it made, the varying heat sequences. Reading about it didn’t prepare her for the feelings associated with humanity. In just hours Katrina had taken Toki on a ride spanning the emotional bridge of humans. She cried, laughed, yelled and hit every point in between. 

Toki feared this male was going to push her into even more uncomfortable territory. 

His fingers slide down Katrina’s back. Her giggle made Toki’s skin crawl. Of course, Toki was borrowing Katrina’s skin for now. Small bumps spread in waves over Katrina’s arms and neck.  

How does humanity exist like this? 

It was less than 24 hours in and Toki was exhausted.

For Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS)

I enjoyed this, it was nice to find a stream of consciousness prompt different than my usual word based one.

Posted in stream of consciousness

QPD (Kind Of): Courage

Courage. That was today’s yoga practice. It’s also the monthly theme. Hell, I think it’s safe to say it’s our universal yearly theme.

Courage to move forward. Courage to push ourselves beyond our comfort zones. Courage to push the people around us from their comfort zones.

One of the truest ways to effect change socially and economically is through divestment. It can be hard to get there. Companies don’t want you to divest. Social constructs don’t really support divestment. But the BLM protests have proven, again, that it is possible. It might be uncomfortable. It might reveal more naysayers than you thought you had in your circle. Always remember, it’s for the greater good.

Posted in stream of consciousness

Crumbs

I’m a little bit messy
In life and in love
Memories splatter
Over walls and stale cloths
Across my shirt
Down my chin
A touch here and there
Fragrant reminders
Of a life I missed
Stick to my lips
Crumbs, ravaged
Forgotten details I pick up
Again and again

Posted in Word Prompt

Dough Boy

I haven’t done a stream of consciousness write in a long time. I didn’t time this one.

If you haven’t read these before. This is a stream of conciousness write with very little editing (so apologies for anything that doesn’t make sense). I pick a prompt, usually a word of the day, turn on some music and just write whatever comes to my head for a set time (usually 10 minutes).

Music: Ghostpoet
Daily words: Image and Dough.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s lips curve downwards and it’s nose hooks right under those skeptical eyes. Made in your image but it’s not you.

It’s soft and stretchy, moist and sticky. Strings of dough stretch from one lip to the other as it mocks my humanoid appearance. 

A spark forms in my belly and spreads like wildfire. Before I realize the scope of my ideas, my limbs begin acting. My legs carry me forth, my arms swing out wildly. My fingers pinch at its doughy arms, pulling away long pieces and tossing them into the endless span of existence below us. 

They can’t work fast enough, its sticky being pulls at the hairs on my arms and legs. Doughy fingers work their way through my hair, ripping me back. 

I could try to frantically escape but something tells me this is like quicksand. It envelops me. Moist strings pry into my mouth, holding my tongue and filling my lungs. 

You are dreaming. You are dreaming.

My jerking body flings onto the floor. Pizza boxes scatter and cower from my cries. 

I’m alive. 

A stray pepperoni sticks to the bridge of my nose. A menacing reminder encroaching on my vision. 

Maybe I’ll lay off the pizza.