Tongue

  Scriptober Day 2 Prompt: Tongue Barbs protrude And sweep across my skin I flinch But for nothing My internal messengers do not relay news of pain Only odd prickling To use a weapon as a tool for affection is a most refined act of love  

“N” is for Nostalgia

The ghost of pleasant pasts She lives in old books and rainy mornings She always enters softly, unannounced Most often through my nostrils But sometimes other orifices To steer the ship of my mind Returning me to moments I have lived through at least once When I arrive, I always find a treasure trove Of... Continue Reading →

Obsolescence

Obsolesence is... An instant photo of a one-hour photo studio Nostalgia creeps in Imagine The one who has killed you dares to weep and ask "why?" Ponder for a moment The rage of the discarded ones  

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