tumbled and cocooned
in flannel sheets
rerunning scenes obsessively
sliding back and forth in my brain
like sand in a shoe box
they won’t let me sleep
no nagging conscience
every day bits
weekends too short
money too tight
nights too long
I turn on the light
pouring nonsense on these pages
in hopes of silencing the demons
of an ordinary life
slipping away off the bed
through the door
a soft furry cat
disappearing in the night
Like a puzzle box
pieces of my life scatter the table
straight edge outlines
delineate my pathway
greenery bits, chimneys and brick
lie scattered among children’s hands
a hazel eye there from a face
I love so dearly
plaids and froth of ocean waves
mix with the deep green of forested mountains
rocky bits amongst skyscrapers and asphalt
the pieces doubled sided to view the
second 50 years of my life
appearing on the magic tablet as the years tick by
I have thought about putting it together
piling up the matching pieces on paper
a mural for my children to open and play with
perhaps marvel at on a Christmas night
by doubt stays my hand
the pieces return
scattered in the box
as middle of the night second thoughts
make me stare blankly numb
at my life which has fallen apart
Looking into the bathtub, I saw something blob-ish, back and hairy. It lay there like a slug after the rain, shiny and repulsive in the light, half in the drain and half out…dripping.
Nothing gags me worse than when the cat has been in the bathtub and clawed up a chuck of slimy hair out of the drain.
Donning the latex gloves, I felt the gag reflex triggering as I leaned over to dispose of the nasty toy. I flung it down the toilet and flushed before I could think about it too much. Icky-shivers catch me as I walk out of the door. Ugh!
Positively gross and absolutely filthy.
courtesy of Bliss Beauty Coffee and Cupcakes – Facebook – Enjoy Your Day!
via Daily Prompt: Bludgeon
Not a momentary hesitation, the needle shot through my skin and skewered the vein before I could move from the woman’s grasp. Jabbing deliberately due to some imaginary insult I had dealt her, she drew blood for a final sample. She drew blood with a sick, sadistic worm of something twisting in her brain that the other students noticed. It was almost gleeful, that look in her eyes. Something not quite right.
They stayed away from the pond, gazelle staring at the latest “kill” across the room. None of them would allow her to draw from them again. Fresh blood…new student…new victim.
She externed the week after. The hematoma lasting two weeks, black and purple bruising, fading to decayed yellows and putrid green and eventually nothing. I wondered if her career would last that long.
small type font
into wisps of smoke
the blank page stares
pond forming under branches
green and dark full of sound
whispers of my heart
quietly curling in
a still room
no one to hear
scratches in a journal
the pen runs dry