Fiction and poetry writing, recapturing the muse.
22:90
There’s disease in your mouth,
too much filth has resided there.
It has corroded away sturdy foundations
that now wobble and wait to crumble.
But perhaps it can be saved.
Cleanse, purify, rinse and repeat,
forego all deceptively tasteful treats
that hide decay within.
Listen to our treatment
or we’ll throw up our hands
in a righteous sigh
as we wire your mouth shut
and let the corruption spread.
22:89
Rehydrate my shell
every three days
so I can continue
avoiding, a master of hiding.
A hiss is my warning,
an empty threat,
because I’d never leave
the comfort of my home
to enact it.
My lack of presence is a worry,
and so this way, I know,
you will actually
be thinking of me.
22:88
How old are you, exactly?
Narrow it down in years,
months, weeks, seconds.
Let me pinpoint the exact
expectations it entails;
your maturity, position, views
and pre-determined path.
Anything that strays will be
tutted and judged.
Tick-tock, dearie, tick-tock.
22:87
The party began
when death befell them.
The sweet release from flesh
lifted away all responsibilities
and their souls grew intoxicated
with freedom, mimicking the memory
of emotions as they
proposed a toast
and congratulated themselves
in finally escaping
life.
22:86
You take away the full stops
and commas needed to make
sense of myself
a jumbled run-on sentence
is all that remains
with no hint of when to pause
when to breathe
when the end
will arrive
22:85
It resides in you,
and can’t exist outside.
No matter how it feels,
it will never be bigger than you,
it should never win.
22:84
Plan your free days
with me as an absent aspect,
while smiling a content smile.
Proclaim you miss me
when we spend time apart,
but no longer are plans
together considered
a priority, a necessity.
Replying to messages has
no guarantee, and no explanation.
Perhaps one day I’ll come home
and you will be gone
with no warning
or regret.
22:83
I saw it fly
from your pocket,
but dive towards the ground,
its wings breaking
before they’d ever know
the full potential
they could bring.
22:82
Risen high above the others
but hollow and full of air.
Only a few delicate strands
hold you together,
ready to crumble
under the slightest
breeze.
22:81
Pull my lips
from my teeth
and examine the inside.
Did they gnaw away
at the inner flesh
with unknown worry
or did they remain pristine?
What do hidden parts
highlight about my soul
to those who finally see
such things?
Does it even matter?
Scribbled Thoughts