WIP – First Class Overspill

They sit and snigger
Like infants on a fair ride
Clasping greasy brown bags
In their manicured hands
The smell of fat and fries
Wafting down the public car
Following the notes of their laughter
Filling the quiet zone
They should know better
These adults dressed up as men
With Gucci suits
And polished leather shoes
When standing
They wobble
And sway
Until one of them topples
Creating a burst of taunting

This was a part of something I wrote during an uncomfortable train journey, – Still some more to work on though

An affliction of prose

Tearing into the pliable flesh for the first time was exhilarating, the freeing of a caged animal. She took the blade and took another slice, slow, hard, deliberate. No pain until the blood rose to the top of the skin and then the brain’s realisation kicked in and sent a twinge of pain. A tweaking, nagging sultry throbbing that sat just under the sticky substance. She stared at it glistening in the candlelight and tried to question her actions, question her reasoning yet she could not explain she merely knew that the crying had stopped. Instead of tears there lingered a stillness, a release of hurt and pain into something beautiful .. serene. Instinctively she lifted her arm to lick the blood from her being and tasted the sweetness in her mouth that calmed her last few sobs. She watched in wonder as the clean slit of skin refilled with a scarlet trace of angst as her lungs inhaled deeply. The scent of the oil burner filtered through her senses, invading her nostrils, her mouth and she sucked the scent into herself and exhaled. As she sat on the floor with her back pressed to the door she felt a peace that she had not felt in a very long time, maybe not ever. The simple act had managed to encompass the guilt, the hurt, the anger and transform it into a liquid serenity. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve she looked at the floor strewn with used tissues and felt her eyes tired from the lamentation. The mirror propped against the wall reflected the candle burning which had darkened the room yet only helped to highlight the redness in her eyes. She sat watching the flicker of the light for a short while until a soft rapping at the door alerted her that there was still life outside her room.

Some writing pulled out and shared on inspiration from Lori over at Rattling Bones

Go read her post – HERE – It’s a good reminder of how we shouldn’t assume 😉

A shower of words

The first burst of water hit her skin in a violent assault, cold enough to almost throw her off balance. She reached out quickly to turn up the heat and breathed a deep sigh as the warm water crept over her shoulders and down her back. Loading up the shower puff with cherry scented gel she began to scrub away the worries of the day.
She reached up to run her hands through her hair, helping the water to find its way through to her scalp and help her relax. Tilting her head to one side, she let out a gasp as the water danced across her neck causing her nipples to stiffen slightly. Then reaching for more shower gel she smeared it over her arms and chest, working up a lather until her top half was covered in soapy suds. Enjoying her own silken touch gliding over her skin and smoothing the bubbles southwards. Closing her eyes as she leaned back into the water allowing the scented foam to soak her entirety.

Ramble of consciousness

Have you ever been lost?

Not lost as in geographically, not lost in a place, not physically lost….just lost.

Someplace that your mind takes you into a world of confusion, of disappointment of fear even. Lost in a time and space that you  feel is not your own, not viable for what you need, and you are alone.
So alone and you can’t pin point why, or how or when you ever reached this point…you only know that you got here..


And that now you can’t leave.

You might not actually be alone, you might not be scared, maybe you have come to accept the little hollow that is your own, come to terms with despondency, the lack of enthusiasm, lack of care. You might have just found yourself trekking along the path of least resistance, happily humming the solo theme tune. You might well even be humming it whilst walking alongside someone, but they are not really with you, you are not really there,

You are but a shell of something you once were, and could be. A dim light in a sea of shimmering morsels ready to be plucked one by one, ready for the taking. Yet you amble on, happy to breathe, happy to survive as long as you don’t have to feel. The numbness that courses through your veins anesthetising your soul and caging your desires, your passion, your worth.
Every now and then you might feel a peck, a small glimmer of being that gives you hope, makes you feel alive and ready to tear down the walls. Yet all too soon you are packed up again and ready to retract. To shut the doors on the world and carry on smiling that fake smile because that is what gets you through…that is the you that they adore.

The only one that they accept.

My beautiful picture


She tensed as a fingertip danced across her exposed cleavage, followed by a warm palm pressed against her cold skin. His hands slide down and dipped in between her breasts and she felt her nipples begin to harden despite herself. The blindfold had shut off her vision but heightened her sense of feeling, and she flinched as his mouth landed hard on hers. His lips felt dry in the morning air, and the slight graze of his stubble against her skin caused her to catch her breath. Light kisses trailed across her lips and over her throat, soft lashings that made her insides tingle. As he reached the base of her neck she squirmed involuntary which made him chuckle in delight. His tongue followed suit and circled her skin causing her to writhe beneath him. She pushed her chest upwards as she lay frustrated with her shackles. But felt the slow release as he pulled down her corset zip slightly allowing a cool blast of air to hit  her clammy skin. He could feel her impatience  growing, and was relishing this rare moment where she was no longer the driving force.

Quote Challenge – Day 3

For the last day of quotes I figured what better way to get to pin a picture of Mr Depp to drool over and it seem ‘intellectual’

Rules for the challenge:
1. Post 3 of your favourite quotes each per day for 3 recurrent days. The quotes can be of any other people or it may come straight from your own heart.
2. Nominate 3 or more bloggers with each post to challenge them.
3. Don’t forget to utter a thankful word to the person who nominated you.



“Just keep moving forward and don’t give a shit about what anybody thinks. Do what you have to do, for you.”
― Johnny Depp

“Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow on it.”
― Vincent van Gogh

“She stood in the storm, and when the wind did not blow her way, she adjusted her sails.”
― Elizabeth Edwards


Michy’s Mess
Mars n Plato 
Joys of Joel 

And thanks you Steph for the fun findings over three days 🙂

Quote Challenge – Day 2

Day 2 of the quotes challenge…here goes

Rules for the challenge:
1. Post 3 of your favourite quotes each per day for 3 recurrent days. The quotes can be of any other people or it may come straight from your own heart.
2. Nominate 3 or more bloggers with each post to challenge them.
3. Don’t forget to utter a thankful word to the person who nominated you.


“At the moment when her eyes closed, when all feeling vanished in her, she thought that she felt a touch of fire imprinted on her lips, a kiss more burning than the red-hot iron of the executioner.”
― Victor Hugo, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same”
Emily Brontë

“Their heads fell apart into sleep like the two halves
Of a lopped melon, but love is hard to stop

In their entwined sleep they exchanged arms and legs
In their dreams their brains took each other hostage

In the morning they wore each other’s face”
Ted Hughes


English Delicacy
Toutons Tubas and Other Tales
What’s Right Is Write

Have fun y’all

And a mention to my original challenger Steph 🙂