Wordle #251


Let the white flowers purge
your immaculate distress.
A fish hung to dry,
the steady burn of adrenalin
of platelets crowding damaged veins.

We enter, the screen at our backs
replaying memories
both exuded and embellished
There’s no need for conspiracy
amongst friends.

As common as cloth
as untenable as revenge
you take less than I give.
You make me so, unnecessary.

Nothing lasts like shame.
Scarlet-edged and oblivious
I rush to rid you
of my handicap,
of my existence
meager and declarative.


Prompt 43 Supernatural Lust

tumblr_m73yd3ordz1rxekheo1_1280Today’s prompt is supernatural lust. There are no rating restrictions but please make a note if your entry is graphic. This is #7 of 20 the first in the series was Unavoidable Pain. Only one participant seems to be using the prompts to create a story but I thought I’d still give a reminder. I can extend the number if needed so let me know if 20 is insufficient. When this series is completed I will of course continue with the prompts so no worries but I wanted to offer a series for people interested in creating stories.

The most obvious example is the incubus/succubus dynamic

Some people become romantically obsessed with works of art (either the creation and/or the product remember how Pygmalion fell in love with Galatea?)

In some cases the chemistry b/w two people is completely overpowering as to cause madness and obsession

Some people experience an amplified lust for life (some times it’s drug or mania-induced sometimes it comes from a more internal/innocuous source)


Zeus and his sexual conquests


Vampires and blood lust

The sick twisted lust of serial killers

Edge (short nonfiction story with audio)

Drug_Addiction_by_ScottyRobottyArt By: Scotty Robotty

Her fingertips brush against the tumescent flesh of over-ripened tins, impotent banana peels, and the acidic edges of violently deposited bottles. Somewhere within this seething estuary of refuse she hopes to find a solution to hunger. Clutching a bag of recently expired Wonder Bread she raises it triumphantly above her eye line. Her lover nods in acknowledgment only, his clean hands tucked into smug armpits. A pack of Big Red marks a second victory. Luxuries are scarce and heralded with enthusiasm.


Along the highway she hops into a car lover in tow, clothes and aromas disheveled and offensive. The man in the front seat is her brother, the girl her niece. She offers the girl an unmade sandwich, boasting of good fortune. That girl is me. I don’t know whether to accept or decline. More than the questionable menu (I’ve removed my share of mold for dinner) I am alarmed by her pressured dialogue and obfuscating eyes. Who is this peculiar woman palpitating asynchronously in our back seat? Who is this man confined behind surreptitious brows and silence? My dad offers up her name, a name I know through stories and gossip. She is a drug addict, this man is her lover and pimp, but above all this elusive creature is my aunt.


The car ride is awkward but polite. She is manic, talking a thousand miles a minute, content to fill the void with her side-stepping quips. She is nice in a way that suggests unpremeditated violence. She is vulgar and she is innocent. She flits carelessly through unknown stratospheres. I can’t tell what she’s taken but I suspect she’s tried everything. When she exits the car she leaves me with the pack of gum. Months from now she’ll be dead, her pimp having forced her into oncoming traffic. I’ll stand tearfully at her closed coffin knowing that whomever lies inside is both beautiful and terrifying.


This is a true story

I did a reading but the length made it very challenging so it isn’t very good


Venom and Vice


The hourglass passes sideways

Through my esophagus

Time is horizontal like a trip wire

That’s why we can only

Ascend or descend


I am afraid of life and death equally

Seeing as energy can neither be created nor destroyed

I suspect that contrast is a form of hypnotism

Like the revolutions of a monochromatic wheel


There is something sympathetic about vice

The way is slides over a wooly exterior

And extinguishes all momentary threat

Vice is patient, it exceeds abstinence in resolve


Any step taken along a longitudinal axis

Will lead me indefensibly to addiction

My neurons have exhausted all ingenuity

They are too fastidious in their ventures

The occasional aberration does not

Expedite sobriety, recovery it seems,

Is the only true immortal



Paper Heart

How long have I dwelt here

On the ocean floor

With the weight of the world

Pressing down

And no air to feed my lungs

Screaming but soundless

As I struggle to the surface?


There are beasts

Beneath the water

In places so dark

That light cannot pervade them

They wear the faces of men

But bear hearts like glaciers

Impregnable fortresses of ice


I have swallowed creation

A poisoned, anonymous lust

Existing bitter within me

I would have given

Anything to escape

No distance, no matter how great

Could take me there


To know the nature of man

At his worst

Is to see my own reflection

Such horrors as I face everyday

Moments that even nightmares

Will not claim


I know the other side of love

The hate that breeds violence

The hate that makes men falter

And surrender to controversy


I used to want to live,

As though an allegory

A white feathered muse

Unblemished by memory

How soon

Till I wield my mask again?


Behind closed doors

Alone in my fragility

I allow the disease

To continue its course


To survive a man would kill

To escape a man would torture

If for even a moment he thought

He were held against his will

To be forced to face himself

He would destroy everything

Until naught but cinders remained


No one ever hurt me

Quite like myself

The sacrifices I’ve made

Amount to little

When measured

Against my dreams

But how easily I discarded my soul

For a life I did not want to lead


I dwell quietly in addiction

So no one has to see me consumed

To fall into nothingness

That I might for a moment forget


Even love can not save me

For my heart is swollen with rage

And can no longer take anything in

Nor feel anything but pain


This isĀ  fictional work