LINDA G’S #soCS WORD PROMPT HERE.
Are you in or are you out?
Flushed souls poke human, paper mache skin ,fanned out.
An elegant pack of cards – Spades aimed at its target , packs a clout.
Doubt grim reaper,
he is great at connecting you with your inner weeper.
Toxic three hours – temperature – fever finally breaks.
Her family can finally let out sighs numbed with dull aches.
Anger ,rage, death hopping two feet forward and shuffling back -creeping – hiding.
Taking it’s time to declare an order.
The heart is wrung out. Pruned -nothing left to saturate it.
Heaving up chunks of oxygen – empty – salted escargot ready to be served for an entre – the media will never admit, it is a mass homicide .
Senile ghosts mumble out hammered toasts.
Champagne flutes . Morphine patches – how much more hammering and wheezing is left, until the invitation arrives ,requesting her attendance to relieve the pain and burden of being a believer in idol hosts?
I write to right this rite.
Prepare for an urn, a coffin or a heaped body tossed in a dumpster.
Respect the ones that loved you and who nurtured you. Those she loves she protects like a mafia gangster.
Not on here much,checked out more times than she cares for.
She’s always ready to come back in but, it does make it harder to live in her skin -deep within.
Little girl ghost howling – cajoling – beseech the black Jesus – bypass Mount Olympia to get a message out to the true king.
Shaking and a moving, trembling, who are we fooling? Head to Las Vegas –
check out the true king with a white cape flapping around him -winking at groupies – rents them out like he has a permanent 50% discount with the budget car rental company, Avis.
Take a trip to Barcelona. Live life on las Ramblas with cava and tapas and plenty of one euro shots at Espit Chupitos.
Never imagined that naive senorita being whistled at would fall so far from la Sagrada Familia’s homemade fajitas.
Waving goodbye to a ghost last seen roaming the hospital’s resuscitation ward , two years in February.
Son kicked her out – took a flame to her hair and in a mad white blitz hoovered her own cemetery.
Rest not – rest want.
Pout, little coquette – this is her last chance to impress Henry the eighth with a carefully measured out squeal – one last squeeze- ears reciprocate to an ecstatic shout.
Desolate, impure. Turn back the clocks but only – one hour.
Protest – demonstrate.
Who made these rules up ?
Time will rewind back to a time she desires. She will make the keeper of his hour- cower.
Murmurs, whispers, emotions. Mixed states.
Take her now and make love to her – make her moan and forget about the woe that lives in her veins -gliding on ice skates.
She needs just him inside her. Only he can take away the regret, the guilt that feeds on her black hole sun.
He knows how to distract her. Make- believe that time can still be merry , doused in her own orgasmic fun.
In and out.
once you have found an in are you going to torment this Empath for eternity?
Narcissus, listen to the nymph-like echo that pleads for you to look away from your mistaken idea of your lover’s identity .
For she’s a jolly good fella… For she’s…. a she is
not even a fella
She’s 83 today.
Big deal, right?
what is so special about her lying in a state care home in a periwinkle neglige?
She is someone I dread going to see -every single week.
I won’t stop going – even when every at every visit, I have to protect every orifice from catching the decay lingering in the air. The food smells like an institution – a broth of flavoured purgatory.
This is not the final destination- I will take the unknown every time.
Staring death in the face – eye to eye.
She fights with every breath.
‘Tu veux du jus?’ says, I – mentally fumbling about for something to fill the time. I pour her a glass of watered down juice.
she grunts and moans in feral tones – I assume she means oui.
Usually, I am really comfortable at free flowing . This doesn’t flow so well. I’m in the thick of it. It’s a plot,alright. I’m standing too close to it to fill it with flowery words. but I have to get this out of my head.
My head shouts:
Over and over arrows laced with commands to make me revolt or dissolve.
I’m not so sure anymore.
I’ve got no other vices.
Thought about having a drink, taking more valium than I should but the outcome is always the same.
So, I sit here trying to process my thoughts. Align my feelings – they are like every kind of liquorice all sorts, except for the actual plain ones. The ones I look for when I want a taste of Life.
You don’t always get what you want. Well, you may have a winning streak for a while but you don’t know where you are truly going to end up,do you?
Sure. we have goals – Do you know with absolute certainty that no obstacle will come in the way and prevent that from happening?
Hey, Don’t stop the fight. We need more of you.
I’m not here to put you on a downer.
Tripwire, I fall into the firing line. A spray of bullets rains through me. Visualise it on a time lapse sequence. Don’t call me a hero . I am a coward.
I see her fight.
83 years old.
She can’t remember,
she can’t even walk.
The rings she has been put through. It’s not evil it’s truly wicked.
She is so divine if only I could make her all fine.
Skin flawless. A wooden doll. so tiny. She has so much fire.
Burn in hell, Weak? they said.
She had it easy. (Life.) She didn’t for the fucking record.
Stop the record, then I can take the needle and jab any mother fucker in the eye, who dares to judge her with their hypocritical , artificial,over consumed minds.
It’s like like the song – easy like a Sunday morning.
We all get at least one of those days – some have a more fortunate hand.
When will this be over?
When is she going to die?
Another person, I love and could have done more for.
No , no
No regrets! the little sparrow bursts out a melody enough to make me weep.
Here I am bawling – feverishly knitting a blanket infused with Tsunami waves, suffocating myself, wallowing- staring at her – All I want to do is start hollering.
If I do I know I will get collered. One apprehension is enough for one day.
I get to be alone with her.
She sucks up at least half a beaker of juice .
I love you ,gran’
Her eyes glisten – a meadow dew-effect . We connected.
She knew I knew she knew I knew.
It’s that befuddling.
I couldn’t hear the radio, I couldn’t see the lampshade glow. All that energy directed me to focus on her mouth.
she came out with the most grateful and graceful ,
THANK YOU – I have ever heard. English is not even her native language,
to me – her own granddaughter.
Thanking me for giving her some juice. Seeing her an hour a week . It’s all sluice.
Drink up your purified juice. Punishment does not lie.
I ran out of that place- discombobulated.
Sometimes, I feel nothing. Other times, I am a gibbering wreck but I always have to collect and that is why I am a respected member of the poker face club.
I have my own Ma who needs me. My daughter.
I’ve made some crazy bets.
A lifetime of betting and I see only now, how important it is that I need to take care of myself.
There is a struggle – warfare -conflict within me .
Not thin enough to be hospitalised but thin enough to warrant concern. I still get appraising looks for this form I inhabit in now.
It awakens the Furies inside me. No, you need to accept me for who I am. Whatever shape I transform into.
I need you to . I need me to.
She is about 5 stone. She eats a lot – can’t put on weight. What a fucking paradox .
I restrict. I know I am putting on weight. I deliberately don’t do cardio exercise anymore.
I do walk a lot -like them L.A. girls. Power walk my way up ‘panic attack ‘hill and finally dwindle down into a corner. Shallow breathing. It’s better than hyperventilating and heaving.
Something to do with birth.
I have everything I need to get obliterated- fuck I could OD – I’ve always been the ultimate elusive escapist of life.
I had to talk to myself.
Me? Talking sense to myself.
So it was my Gran’s birthday today.
She is still clinging on to life. She is not hanging out with her fellow homies in the lounge downstairs making cupcakes or doing puzzles – listening to Polly-the ultimate nutcracker, sitting in her favourite chair and swearing. Put her hands down her pants to feel something. Nobody else cares.
I can’t swallow. These are not the most sprightly of places to visit.
How much longer has she got?
How much longer do we all got?
I wake up every morning to life- I stare at innocence in the eyes – it’s reflected back to me in my daughter’s eyes.
Still,I have moments when I contemplate dicing with my own life. gambling it , frittering it away.
To have this kind of raw ,exposed insight. To know better – is self-flagellation.
To sit with a belly full of food and a head and heart full of thoughts and emotions
and wonder …
I’ve done that far too much.
Escapology trick 101 .
I wonder why I won’t accept my lot.
Am I the only one?
I’m not convinced. I’m sceptical like that.
I mean sure I’m special but c’mon……..
I have issues- being a narcissist is not one of them – unless I am having I look like shit – no one liked my selfie post today.
Then it’s all about me mimicking others emotions to get what I want.
I’m not overly whimsical with this post.
On a lighter note me and my husband ( bless him) we fucked so hard yesterday.
We had round two because I wanted my pleasure.
So I fucked him good and proper. I role played, Gepetto, in retrospect.
I wasn’t bothered about his needs. For once.
It’s actually a kind of breakthrough for someone like me.
My Nose is not growing.
I could say so much but I may embarrass him. Oh, hang on. I do that all the time. That’s why he married me. I am truly one of a kind and so is he.
A perfect match.
Ladies, you know how when you have been fucked ( I’m not talking about making love and a bit of slap and tickle) I mean when you wake up the morning after ?
Cliche phrase alert!
‘John Wayne’ has come out as a woman. It’s all good but its the after effects of pedalling on a bike, cards t t ticking in the wind, bells tinkering the first time – all that bruising.
Serious bicycle abuse.
My Man- is hurting today. I’m laughing. I’m evil.
Don’t worry he enjoyed it . He keeps making sure I don’t forget it. 😀
Of course, I was on top.
My ride – my rules.
So I’m gonna leave it there – I think I’ve covered some pretty big themes.
Sex, Life, Death, Abuse.
Feeling vulnerable now. Do you mind if I put my armour of skin back on?
If you made it this far – fucking well done. Not patronising you. I promise.
Not my usual style of writing.
Life is short – make it sweet. Stay on top of the game for as long as you can.
These are my words.
* Inspired by my Life, Dementia, thoughts*
Not all men can handle a strong woman.
A lot of them tend to make us feel like we are weak,wrong , crazy even with our impulse feelings to rule and to be dominated.
They would happily send us to a place to be Abominated.
Not all men can dominate a strong woman
It takes a real man – with a front and backbone – one that he uses .
One that he knows how to use and simply won’t take her refusals.
A firm hand – pressed against her delicate neck bone – wind pipe-disarmed . A Struggle to breathe.
Shock – Fight or flee.
Stay and put up with it – two stubborn souls connect – who is going to win?
She could fight you, she will put up a good bluff .
Poker face. Stoke his fury – Flush her out – until she is red in the face .
Hair fanned out in a perfect pose,astrologically aligned with her sin.
She knows when to stop him. She pushes back his arm.
Will he get the message or will he continue with the power trip and go one and on ?
The moment of truth is in his bare hands.
Her life, her breathe is his – she is at his wildest demands.
He won’t take no for answer – she won’t refuse his frustration.
She would rather end up black and blue
Thumbed, printed ,read all over- front to back.
than pass on her pain,
Her 6 red eyed ,three-headed Cerebus demon.
Dizzy disparate desperation.
She won’t see that reflection – not one drop will trickle from his eye the mirror that she sees is, in fact, her depiction.
She is his keeper – She owes him his salvation.
Till death do us part.
Charon take your ferry – set back sail on the river Styx . She casts the ferryman back to eternal damnation.
Lust , love , it’s all a part of the combined heady scent and the sweat .
gender – Sexual Agenda – together, forever in each others debt.
A pounding heart. She suddenly gasps.
does she fight for one last caress?
Love is complicated. So is she.
He is her man.
Her king and she will let him be.
Euphoria – deuphoria – her hands tremble – she is shaking.
Pins and needles – no voodoo.
True Magic, is two people madly in love.
two hearts – hers stopped beating so he took out his own – ripped it from his chest – tore it in half and gave her one part.
She doesn’t need a rib.
She needs a beat – a rhythm.
A Civil rights movement protest.
bloody driven from her comfort- safety zone.
This time, when she makes a noise it won’t be a solemn, repressed moan.
Jolted into believing.
Stained sheets. She is done with teasing.
She is the Queen of his heart.
Same time tomorrow – so they can resume their riske business meeting.
* Inspired by watching Once upon a time*
Estranged from the one she loves. Cursed by her wretched, past associations.
Darkness, rough, clawing hands -grabbing flesh -their only Agenda: to satisfy their base emotions.
A hand constantly tugs at hers – out from the dark, away from these faceless haunters of hers, now theirs – a battle they now share.
This hand is different. It Brings her to the present – gallant and full of spirit. Thoughts don’t spiral now ,that his firm hands are exploring what he calls his divine pair .
Move right, move left, bite his neck , use your vulva walls to squeeze his penis.
Don’t overthink this. Allow your body to respond as natural as if you are indeed the mighty Goddess Venus.
‘Do you trust me ?’
Yes. I do.
She turns her back ,faces forwards, white shirt buttoned up to protect her neck, hands tied behind her back with a silk scarf –
not some silly boy scouts set.
Two well placed fingers on her neck ,apply pressure, stop her pulse -Distraction – she isn’t aroused but willing –
she just wants freedom and to forget.
Work for this moment.
Standing ,she entwines both legs around his torso.
She grinds on his concealed cock, feral, non performing in style , an aura lights up around them
– look at how they glow.
She wants to feel this.
She wants to feel. Lose herself in the moment
– not wonder if she is doing it wrong.
Two speeding hearts.
Two scents of merged sweat.
Too much expectation -she feels the ghosts of past, hum a sinister
-well remembered song.
He unties her.
He has got a better plan.
‘I love you’ , says he. ‘Trust me.’
He tells her to lie on the bed and she does as he bids.
Fingers explore every part -deep inside her , the surface of her walls, her clitoris – he’s trying to find her G spot –
the Agenda is clearly not to breed a bunch of of kids.
She closes her eyes, tries to drift off. Don’t think -just feel- get past the urge to scream stop and run to empty an imaginary full bladder.’
‘Look at me,’ says he. Her eyes flicker open. She hears her breathe , her muscles relax, her legs no longer tense.
She looks into his eyes, tumbles in with a depth and an alluring candour.
There is a break through – no fire works but a result. A triumph of sorts. She didn’t lose herself to forget.
Stars turn out ,wink at her, applauding her ability to mentally let go, without feeling like she has hung herself –
missed one letter from the alphabet.
She pulls him close to her – whispers-
‘what is in this for you? I didn’t get a chance to fulfil your needs -cut you off – stopped you in your tracks . Call me Goddess Asphyxiate’
He kisses her and smiles.
‘I think we have moved forward . I get great pleasure in being the one , I feel I have earned my title to stand beside you as your King , all I asked was for your trust and for this reason I was able to conciliate.
* Some say write what you know others say make it all up. Sometimes the best way to deal with our shit is to get it all out. Some need a good fuck -others need a mind fuck . I need a word play around fuck and have fun- not get too serious.*
You’re a great shagger!
Is it better when I stagger?
You will suck my cock?
Are we in Surgery , do I have a needle in my hand? Am I dressed like a certified , Doc?
Let me lick your pussy.
Nah! let’s skip the foreplay – you pretending to make love to me is so sweet but I know how you hate being portrayed as a wussy.
Let’s talk for bit. I can show you my personality.
Um. Yeah like ,sure like let me put my music on and you can blow me away with talk of your Mental Insanity.
You are a great fuck!
But… I don’t think it’s gonna work. Three nights cuddling on the sofa and watching T.V.?
Well, shucks – thanks for the post- fuck, diplomatic back handed compliment.
.That makes me think:
shit,dude! you so need to thaw and chow down on a super sized Smiley Maccie E .
Why does it seem guys can move on so fast after they cum?
Us girls – well me – I get to dual with my emotional, shit- loaded scum.
No amount of of limescale cleaning,
will make this emotional scum any more prepared to ditch my mind , take a sail ,
Exit the next
nearest body of water- preferably not mine.
HINT: the one that is gleaming .
You need to stay away from me – we need to sort out our own issues.
Couldn’t you have fucking told me that pre -shag then I could have stayed home and read the real ‘ Big issue’ ? and saved a quid on fucking Kleenex tissues.
with my intellectual scholastic Holistics.
Want a sure fire way to make sure you never get a reply from a guy ever again?
Go on a two day bender,start drunk texting inanely, tell him how you think you love him and then how you hate him –
I’m sure he will totally want to see your pretty mug and have round two of a…..
Oh no wait, he will probably be lighting up the Good Bud having a good purging- whose counting ? Maybe Ten . I’m pretty sure he is not picking up his precious fountain pen.
Please get back to me! Have a heart -Stop being so mean ……
Yeah, I think , I’m going to be waiting for a while, like an orgasm that makes me want to scream.
How did this start?
Pre -fuck – You are fucking stunning!
Post fuck – maybe I will need to start gearing up with a shunning.
Want to feed into Lip service -pay with your heart?
Shake a tail feather at it and you will probably get more respect -maybe even be admired for that show – it is kind of an Art.
So ,this has got to end somewhere
Maybe , I need to just leave and pick up my salty underwear.
( maybe one day a “complicated” friendship will get as easy as a pre -fuckable me)
Until then life continues…
Welcome to married life!
With a complicated wife!
* DISCLAIMER POTENTIAL OFFENSIVE CONTENT *
Want to know how?
Impress me with your wit.
I think how and the way a man’s mind works is what makes a person truly fit.
Do I have any illicit fantasies?
Most of have been taught and are somewhat warped.
Dare, I bare my skeleton of deeds,
I thought were indeed my true wanted realities?
Most past fantasies have been impressed upon me by other men.
Oh yeah , they had a way of challenging this drunk ‘so up for it’ party girl hen.
Did you know slow pressure applied to the neck is great for kicks?
Imagine my asphyxiation when I found out that these were life endangering tricks.
Daisy,watch hard core porno with the women always being degraded.
Because of course I “want” to deep throat it ,choke and feel a sense of been invaded.
Lets take a trip to the Marque de sades sex parlour.
Ooh Daisy, Why don’t we try this alien like probing vibrator .
Only if you want to watch me turn into a frigid , monstrous snarler.
Hey, lets play some fucked up role play game,
Where only one person knows the rules and forgets and refuses to stop
even when I have howled in pain “our” safe name.
I have a vagina.
If I wanted a constipation reliever
I doubt I would be asking for your one eyed idle sloth to turn me into a anal believer.
So, Daisy nothing to tell the press about your wildest fantasies?
My biggest one ?
is that I only need one to make me implode.
It has to feel like I have orgasm-ed for the first time.
Like that time when I was 12 and I felt the need explore.
My hand became the turner that knew ever trick to ask me to implore and go
” Please, Fucking more!”
Skinny dipping by moonlight.
All could potentially turn me on;
with the right,
light touch of one great Might.
three in a bed ?
I’m way too selfish to share a man with plastic let alone another outcast bed head.
Dominate me if you must.
but make sure you listen when I tell you to shut the hell up.
When it’s my time to dominate,
you better be ready or let’s skip all the legalities and shred the pre nup.
So what turns me on?
A man who respects me.
A man I trust to fully be.
So many adventures to be had,if I feel like we are on the same kind of level.
Drunk sex makes non -sense. I have got to leave the spirits well alone- that turns me into an eager to please false she devil.
Let’s join hands and go on an awesome journey.
Keep things lively with the least amount of risking it becoming all Emo mourny?
Treat me like a woman and,
I will treat you like a man.
It’s only fair in our great sex,
Read all about it – ‘SEX LIFE FINALLY MAKES A WOMAN WANT TO UNDRESS ?’
If you want to know the truth ,
come to the source and once and for all hush up this bullshit, cosmopolitan media press.
THANK YOU TO LINDA FOR HER #SOCS – Always a great way to get me writing 🙂
“Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “Press.” Find a word that starts with press-, ends with -press, or use “press” as a word all by itself. Have fun!”