[WRITERS] EXERCISE #2: The Truth
every dark shadow
every bad tooth
the jaw that hangs crooked from my skull, the dull eyes, the thin lips
untouched , uncared for, discarded.
Trapped in a mirror
the one that hangs neglected in my hallway.
it screams from it’s glass prison
I shout it down
throw it down
crush it under words as heavy as stone
you wasteland of skin and bone
nobody sees you, nobody cares for the looks of you
Not even me.
Fandango’s February Expressions #9
A kind word
a harsh word
a glare, a snort a laugh
expressions of contempt
hidden in a joke, wrapped up in jest
passed down like a prized possession
from Mother to Son to me.
She was broken,
we were broken
she meant nothing to me at all
in the end
he said sadly through a cloud of smoke
to his hot Mama, the Goddess
his true love
on the night of his final betrayal.
And they lived happily ever after
until she came back
from the dead and tracked the dirt they buried her in
I keep losing my way,
it runs off without me
and I can’t keep up
angry, vicious, blind in one eye
but somehow it manages to
shake me, lose me, elude me
when I need it the most.
My way is lost but it doesn’t care
I’m sorry I have lost my way.
The right color eyes
the creamiest peachiest skin
not a golden hair out of place
a life set to music
Instagram, Immortalized on Facebook
envied by numberless aching hearts beating in bedazzled phones world wide.
I want to be that woman
who exists in perfection with the swipe of a finger
A command to Alexa an order to Siri
make me like that wonderful girl
that refined and delicious woman
who wants world peace and never has to open a door for herself
Hey Google, can you cut my muscles, rearrange my bones fill me with gel and fat until I’m a work of art too?
Can you make me sound like her, move like Her Alexa?
Will I be valid then Siri?
I want to be as real as her.
The girl who exists in perfection
with the swipe of a finger
against a plastic cover
on a bedazzled phone.
FOWC with Fandango — Valid
In the woods
under the trees
all of my nightmares
have found a place to sleep.
They tolerate the dawn
they slumber until dusk
they wake up cranky and hungry
craving bones to munch
dreams that have aged and died
my nightmares will feast on them
in the forest
under the trees
where no one can hear them cry
Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #49
He had a date with destiny
she had a date with fate
the numbers on the clock raced away
now all that is left to them
is a date to a hurried grave.