Spoon deep in cornflakes
Viewing the world from the screen
This life in silence
Spoon deep in cornflakes
Viewing the world from the screen
This life in silence
With soft fleshy lips
pressed hard
full against my mouth
He could suffocate me with one kiss
Yet I would die happy
With a joyous tingling inside
Willing him to keep his luscious lips on mine
When his hands firmly hold my neck
Thumb trailing over my jaw
Fingers curling around my throat
He could halt the intake of air
Yet suffocation would bring only desire
As I sigh and die
By his warm hands
The roses smell sweeter
When wet
Crushed under the arch of your back
Delicate petals
Sodden with sweat
Paper thin shells
Pressed into lush grass
Flattened by the force
Of desire
I remember it well
The nights you came to me
Secret trysts under trellis’
Stolen kisses
As the sun raced us home
Your skin glistening with sweat then
Hot breathe on my neck
As you panted my name
The moment you gave yourself
Over to passion
Over to love
Over to me
I remember it well
It lay before him
The charred remains of a hollowed out corpse. He looked down in bewilderment, eyes wide and frantic and he turned to see the empty auditorium.
I watched him in the dim light, his face awash with confusion. I almost felt sorry for him as he sunk to his knees and placed his head in his hands……almost.
If I hold my breath and strain my ears I can just about hear the low sobs. The slow gulps of realisation catching in his throat, the raspy whisper of his voice repeatedly stating ‘what have I done, what have I done’. Like a mantra he repeats this to himself, rocking back and forth as if this will somehow force him to regain his memory. Clearly this is not going to work for him, I chuckle to myself as I push up the lever.
With a click and a whirring the spotlight hits the stage highlighting the mutilated corpse and forcing him to spring to his feet.
“Who is it? Who’s there?”
His face drained of colour as he frantically looked around. Searching for an answer, searching for the spotlight’s operator…searching for me
—
Something for Darkside Thursday – To catch up with Andy’s latest darkside then click HERE
I thought as a little thank you for all reblogs on George for Fun I would write something inspired by the man himself so this is a little poem based on the inspiring words he promotes π
Life is Short
Enjoy life
Live it to the fullest
Cram every little bit of happiness
Into the short time available
Donβt wait
Just do
Believe
Allow your dreams to soar
Reach for the stars
They are not out of reach
If you only try
Love
Yourself and those dear
Hold them close
And share out your heart
It will last longer
Living within memories
Than beating in life
Take control
Donβt let others push you
Down wrong paths
Take the road less travelled
Accept the bumps and bruises
But find joy the other side
And trust
Trust that you are enough
Always
It is entirely too much
to keep up with all of me
All of the time
Itβs apparent that somewhere
Along the twisted lines
Of facades, personalities
Alternate appearances
Somehow I have come adrift
My connections worn free
Where once appeared a fluid
but singular form
Now houses a choir of voices
A crowd of faces-filtered
Over surface and manner
In place of a rollercoaster of thoughts
The jumble of a mystery bag
Feelings that would pop at random
Currently sliced in parts
Each sliver of me
Claiming a name
Shouting in secular voice
Grasping an entire being
For its own
A shard of emotion enlarged
Forged into a solitary being
All calling out at once
Wriggling from my grasp
And leaving me lost
An empty vessel
hollowed of being
Desperately chasing pieces of me
Attempting to be whole again
I gave my love,
I gave him all
He didn’t see me
Not at all
Thin white cotton sheets
A sliver of morning light
Enjoy, time to breathe
Step one – Assess the patient
If still and quiet,
tucked up in bed
Kneel beside him
Feel his forehead
If snuffling and sneezing
Shivering with sweat
Prepare for the evening
In your kitchenette
Make the soup
But if you come home
Find your man on the couch
Snuggled in blankets
Being a grouch
When you ask how he feels
He tells you he’s dying
Whimpering and wailing
Wants Vicks rub applying
Now for the decision
This is reallyΒ Manflu
Are you wanting to cook
Or consider step two
Step two – Assemble miracle cure
Take two black stockings
Stretched up to thighs
One khol black liner
Apply to eyes
Paint your lips
To ruby red
Balance a nurse cap
On your head
Fasten tight
Your push up bra
Slip on high heels
It’s not that far
Dab self with scent
Pull on lace thong
Zip up nurse dress
You can’t go wrong
Then over patient
You must lean
To show him how
Things could have been
If he were well
Then out the blue
You find he doesn’t
Have manflu
Three sweet onions thinly sliced
Four thick garlic bulbs finely diced
A cube of butter melted down
One sizzling pan for glazing brown
Stir widdershins with wooden spoon
While humming softly, light in tune
Ready beef stock, rich with heart
Entwine balsamic, strong and dark
Two large cups of blood red wine
A glug of brandy over time
Fan the heat until it boils
Simmer down then taste your spoils
Season to acquired taste
Sprinkle parsley chopped in haste
After having a Get well soon theme pop up on the reader
SEE HERE
And chatting with the ‘suffering’ I felt inspired to share my cure in a more poetic form.
Keep an eye out there is more to come *winks*
In the material and spiritual realm
A soul telling your mind what your heart bleeds for.
They exist. I can taste it.
she writes stuff sometimes.
Text in ya face
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