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Literature Text
Affixed to her fridge were flame magnets, the kind you were supposed to put on your car. It looked as though the fridge was trying to fly through the floor, which wasn't yielding. There was also a scrap of red carpet duct-taped over a hole in the front plastic layer of the freezer door. Someone had drawn a crude penis on the fabric with a black marker, complete with a little smiley face. On the inside, several large nails had been hammered in, forming the shape of a cross. There were splatters of something red around it.
Inside, there was nothing save for about fifteen shot glasses filled with different colored kinds of jello. Likewise, there wasn't a lot in the freezer, aside from about five bottles of bottom-shelf gas station liquor.
Inside, there was nothing save for about fifteen shot glasses filled with different colored kinds of jello. Likewise, there wasn't a lot in the freezer, aside from about five bottles of bottom-shelf gas station liquor.
Literature
Horse Shoe
A black-and-white figure, pasted across the pavement.
I light a candle,
a vivid poster in the hall.
Cuts, and cuts, and bruises.
You told me about your 'basketball incident'.
Connect-the-dots to create something
you are not.
A drawing of a donkey.
Splayed fingers in many different colors.
A church made of psychedelia.
We formed it from chalk
and we played as real people.
I got to the be the airplane pilot.
But chunks of my hair fell on your brand new sneakers.
You didn't know what to say.
There's something shiny-
very shiny in your past.
And I can see the gleam
but you won't tell me what it is.
I would love to listen to you sing.
Literature
Shamditions
is there anything worse
than insomnia?
maybe this voodoo doll
who just won't stop staring at me
or maybe it's the frustration
with myself and my inability
to go back to sleep
to write how I want
you do not rule me or my art
take your traditions and walk away
or I swear on my art
which is my life
I will rip your traditions to shreds
Literature
on the cusp
it is just that when i let go of you
when i let go
it's hard to remain that perfect without you.
--
the in-between of love, buds- so full of potential
our love is written in whispers on the pages
of a book which has not yet been opened.
--
that day, the sun had erased the last lines
of an unforgiving winter from my skin, i was renewed
olive skinned and feeling as if i had just fled the eternal
garden naked as i came- free, fallen.
--
the sky was dark;
nothing but the blood red smile of the moon
cut through the transient darkness of the night.
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Written 11/17/10 in fiction writing class.
© 2010 - 2024 seussical-love
Comments2
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As always, your descriptive writing is virtually flawless! One never has trouble "picturing" the scenes and scenarios. It's reading "incomplete" stories that I find to be rather FRUSTRATING!
On a side note; we will be in Oklahoma City over the Thanksgiving holiday. We're driving down this time. Drop me a note if you'd like to join us over a cup of coffee or the like while we are that "close" and we'll see if we can make it happen. We're leaving Monday night, most likely. God bless and have a happy Thanksgiving, in case we don't get to see you!
On a side note; we will be in Oklahoma City over the Thanksgiving holiday. We're driving down this time. Drop me a note if you'd like to join us over a cup of coffee or the like while we are that "close" and we'll see if we can make it happen. We're leaving Monday night, most likely. God bless and have a happy Thanksgiving, in case we don't get to see you!