Posted in stream of consciousness, Word Prompt

Broken Bottle of Whine (Repost)

By some twist in irony this is exactly a year old and somehow it’s relevant again. Cycles, full circle, something. Thanks for partaking in my whine.

Sometimes I wish I could be the mom
That my father claims I am.
Shitty and repulsive
With no other care.
I couldn’t be the person
In the narrative he keeps,
The story he likes to tell about me.
The daughter that left her child.
The daughter that only comes around for money.
The daughter that only cares about the next party.
Tonight I’ll try to convince myself
All these things I do aren’t just for show.
I’ll wish I were beautiful.
I’ll wish I were smart.
I’ll wish I hadn’t broken your heart.
I’ll tell myself everyone’s proud of me.
Tonight I’ll sit on my bathroom floor
With my broken bottle of whine
And cry myself to sleep.
So when I wake tomorrow
It will all just be a bad dream
And my bottle of my whine
Will be poised on the counter neatly,
Waiting to be filled with
Broken expectations and unfulfilled dreams,
Bad words and ugly names,
Until it overflows and needs to be broken again.
Then I’ll sit on my bathroom floor
With the weight of this world,
Frothing and rushing,
Threatening to drown me
But never winning out.

Posted in Word Prompt

Broken Bottle of Whine

Sometimes I wish I could be the mom
That my father claims I am.
Shitty and repulsive
With no other care.
I couldn’t be the person
In the narrative he keeps,
The story he likes to tell about me.
The daughter that left her child.
The daughter that only comes around for money.
The daughter that only cares about the next party.
Tonight I’ll sit on my bathroom floor
With my broken bottle of whine
And cry myself to sleep.
Tonight I’ll try to convince myself
All these things I do aren’t just for show.
I’ll wish I were beautiful.
I’ll wish I were smart.
I’ll wish I hadn’t broken your heart.
I’ll tell myself everyone’s proud of me.
Tonight I’ll sit on my bathroom floor
With my broken bottle of whine
And cry myself to sleep.
So when I wake tomorrow
It will all just be a bad dream
And my bottle of my whine
Will be poised on the counter neatly,
Waiting to be filled with
Broken expectations and unfulfilled dreams,
Bad words and ugly names,
Until it overflows and needs to be broken again.
Then I’ll sit on my bathroom floor
With the weight of this world,
Frothing and rushing,
Threatening to drown me
But never winning out.

Froth

Posted in Word Prompt

Sweet Nectar

WordPress Daily Prompt – Bliss

“Fruity aromas, subtle peach …” she inhaled deeply, “Perfection.” She swirled the red blend in the glass letting it stain the sides in dusky waterfalls of pure bliss.

As she sipped the red nectar and surveyed the chalet it was hard not to be taken by the view. “The Swiss Alps doctor, very impressive.” From the balcony the full scope of the mountain range was breathtaking. Stoic forests climbed towards the clouds before dissipating into glistening peaks. She leaned against the railing letting her breath escape in white puffs over the landscape.

Her attention was drawn back to the doctor, leaned back in his chair with his mouth slightly agape, staring blankly at the ceiling. A slow trickle of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth.

She studied his limp body with muted interest over the rim of her glass. Despite the sweet aromas there was a slightly tangy aftertaste, it sent a shiver of delight through her.

“1967 was a good year indeed.” She let her fingers slide through his slightly greying locks one last time. “It was a lovely evening with you and, dare I say, an even better night.” She drained the last of the thick honey from her glass. “Let me get this for you. What kind of date would I be to leave you in such a disheveled state?”

She leaned close to the doctor’s smooth skin. He still smelled of musky aftershave and ¬†twilight passions. The small trickle of blood smelled just as divine as the sweet nectar of her glass. “I suppose it would.” She whispered gently before letting her tongue indulge in one final taste of the man.

“I must bid you adieu now, can’t be caught with the sun coming up you know.” Her whisper was barely a breath on the mans ear then she was gone.


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Posted in Word Prompt

Ain’t Got No Arms

WordPress Daily Prompt – Mushroom

“It’s just the wine talking.” She thought as she stretched across the flouncy mushroom. “Pretty fucking strong stuff though.” It was so soft, she could sink into it the way she sank into that hotel bed in Paris before those thugs broke in …

“Nope. Not going there.” The mushroom bounced and waved. “This is fun. Bouncing on a fucking mushroom. No one’s going to believe me.” She bounced higher with each gentle movement of the mushroom. Each new height brought new views beyond the garden of mushrooms.

First there was a garden wall of flowers. “Like a rainbow.” She giggled. The reds bled into the blues and the blues into the yellows forming every color in between.

Then there was a castle, like something from a fairytale. She cackled with joy, “Of fucking course!”

But beyond the castle something else stirred. A cloud of heavy green gas that swirled and heaved. Although she couldn’t be close enough she swore she could taste the sour air. “Oh shit.” She gagged as the mushroom launched towards the ground.

“Ah shit, she fell off the fucking thing.” A caterpillar with eight feet and only six shoes stared down at her.

“Well, don’t leave her there! Pick ‘er up!” The caterpillars second mouth demanded.

“Can’t, I ain’t got no arms.” The caterpillar kicked two of his shoed feet towards her to accent the fact that his arms were missing.

“Ugh, good fer nothin’! Ronny! Ronny! Bring your fat ass in here and give her more! Bitch is squirming around the floor.”

“Ronny!” The whole situation struck her as completely hilarious. The caterpillars two mouths contorted into some expression of twisted dismay. “Ronny!” She cackled again.

“I’m comin’.” A slug with one eye open and one eye closed holding a pine needle slid towards them slowly.

“Well take your sweet fuckin’ time.” The caterpillars second mouth chastised.

“You can just fuck right off.” The slug moved around her leaving a ring of clear goo. “Get me her arm then.”

“Can’t.” The caterpillar’s first mouth repeated. “Ain’t got no arms.” The slugs one open eye blinked slowly.

“Right then.” He wrapped a thick tentacle like arm around her wrist and held her arm into the air. “Just a prick.” His fat slug tongue licked his thin lips as he plunged the pine needle into her arm.

“Motherfucker! Just a prick! That hurt like ….”

“Shit. Do you think we gave her too much?”

Ronny shrugged. “Who cares as long as we get the ransom money.”


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