Tale Weaver’s Prompt #12 Ghosts


Her face is as linoleum, dimensionless save for the jaundiced shadows gathering in the chalice beneath her bound lids. Butterfly ashes moored in perpetual chrysalis. Her temperament makes her age incalculable. So deep is her grief that I cannot devise a persona that predates it. She courts death ambivalently, pills and wine comprise the bulk of her diet and consume so utterly her senses that I can not impose upon her a notion that she can not divest.


My chill is met with the indifference of her pursed blue lips. Not even a sweater despite the materialization of breath. The lights flicker behind the silk of her obfuscating tears. My footsteps dissipate within her sobbing breaths. A looking glass unpolished, her dull irises implore still the warmth of my lifeless hands. She occupies my loneliness but does not diminish in the least my hunger. Is this life? Then for what is it that I still linger? Surely death is more conventional, more welcoming than this? I place a mug of tea by her outstretched hand and watch her sip gingerly never questioning the means of acquisition.


(This is a draft/sketch I was working on for Tale Weavers but then I got an email from my mom her TSH factor which should be 4.0 is 51.00 she has hypothyroidism and it is causing problems with her heart now and she has no insurance and I am afraid she is going to ignore it. She wanted to visit this summer but is now to sick the above story has nothing to do with this it is just why I didn’t polish/finish)



I apologize for all the reblogging and feel I owe you some explanation for it

So here goes
1) My laptop keeps losing power (despite being plugged in) and turning itself off. It’s not that old by my standards but it doesn’t seem long for this world. When left on it gets really hot.
2) I have been unusually busy yesterday Isadora had her graduation (from kindergarten), we had a celebration, went to lunch, I took her to get a haircut, to the library, later we went to grand opening of a store on top of my usual stuff all my days seem to be packed lately and I usually do my email before I write which has been piling up since I am away
3) Lastly and probably most importantly. I have been to a few therapy sessions and my guard is dangerously high. I’m blocking my thoughts and feelings even from myself at the moment. My therapist made a comment on how calm I appear outwardly no matter how difficult the memory I am sharing and the last session was on my dad. The price of that calm is basically that I turn all those emotions on myself like a weapon really. I am in intense physical pain and can barely stand to be in any position too long. Multiple pinched nerves, subluxations, extreme muscular tension, and my right hip is out of place. The manifestation of my emotional state I suppose



Unraveled, Occluded

Eviscerating, Nullifying, Victimizing

Black heart of inertia


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