aka SusanWritesPrecise
The mail carrier had come early that day, and Melissa rushed out to see what he'd brought. There was a shiny looking envelope hand-lettered in magenta Candle Mustard — their signature font. "Oh, God," she mumbled. "Not another damn Sublimity Party." Sure enough, it was. And for that coming Saturday, no less. "Crap! I'm so [...]
Found this fabulous piece by M. A Morris on Hearing the Mermaids Sing.
Set out years ago
Dropped breadcrumbs
Some no bigger than dust particles
Of the soul
Along the roads and paths
Thought I’d find my way back,
There’d be time
There’d be years
Be months
Weeks
Days
Seconds
Left before the sand
Absconded with the hourglass
To find the trail of dust and crumbs
Sweep and pour them
Back into the soul
Add a few ingredients
Create once more
From the beginning
But birds and squirrels
Feasted on the leavings
And I’ve no desire
To return to where I started.
On her knees and white-knuckling the porcelain bowl, Samar awaited the next surge of morning sickness to spew forth. In the kitchen, Abdul was shrieking at one of his buddies on the prepaid cell phone she’d purchased for him at Wal-Mart yesterday. “Pray God my baby isn’t a boy,” she implored and wretched the remainder [...]
I just had to share this phenomenal piece by Kindra M. Austin.
What you want, I ain’t got; and
goddamn,
I have the sinking feeling that it’s happening
again,
as night is falling down upon me. I submerge,
accordingly—
await my death.
My death eradicates mistakes I’ve made,
and saves.
My death is a great red pen, correcting—
according to
Vodka,
on top of Fibromyalgia,
on top of Anxiety,
on top of Depression,
on top of Rx medication.
*
Two years dead,
and I’m still fucking seeking
mother’s affection.
I beat my breast,
claw my throat,
shake my insignificant
fists.
I cry confessionals ‘til Hell won’t have ‘em.
*
I have the sinking feeling that it’s happening
again,
as night is falling down upon me. I submerge,
accordingly—
await another death.
Each one eradicates mistakes I’ve made,
and saves.
I am pain,
and all my deaths
are a great red pen, correcting—
according to the spiders spinning webs
within the folds…
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"So, tell me, Marina..." Jackie began as she put her work away for the day. "What big plans do you have for Valentine's Day?" Marina shook her head and sighed. "I no have a the big plans. Is a very sad day for me. Very sad." "I'm so sorry," Jackie replied. "Did you have a boyfriend [...]
