TymeProse

Friday, April 17, 2009

Odd Little Man

He was an odd little man, in the meanest of terms, traveling far into the city, much further than he intended. And on his way he gathered carcasses of animals and birds, pretending they were alive and making conversation with them for company. He did not know he was lonely with no place among the living, so he chose the remains of those who reflected his image the most. Death followed him through alleys and streets and ballooned like a mirror in every face-- his mind the vestige of a very cold... Sign in to see full entry.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Distant stars don't give up souls for the living, as if we are reborn all at once, searching for the shadow without turning. Nor do we shine at birth, amazed at the place we were born before; or watch our past lives with ageless eyes, sighing in wonder of who we are. Soil and stone mark our limits and the sun may chase us from home or the wind may gently hurl us and carry us where it will. But wisdom is not in the sun or the wind-- it comes softly in the rain. Sign in to see full entry.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

the Truly Insane

Would have been convenient to know you were insane before we got into all this. My white pillowcases would not be streaked with black mascara. Or maybe, I wouldn't have humiliated myself by dissecting all your love poems to other women. Maybe, I wouldn't have hidden in the far bathroom between a white porcelain toilet and a frigid outside wall, grasping bent knees, in thin nylon panties and barefeet, frozen, on a slutty tile floor. But you are innocent. Your ignorance absolves you, because after... Sign in to see full entry.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Your Erotic Wake

Skin ripples like water fingers run like a river down arms, up legs between thighs Nurturing are your hands, as mysteries dissolve in your eyes. In your words, thoughts tip me over from night to day, from moonlight to sun ray, and passionate as flesh-strokes-- my need, like fingers planting seeds. What a pleasure to watch them sway in the wind, growing by day-- an exquisite treasure: shame at rest, slain in your erotic wake. Sign in to see full entry.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Give the Man Credit

I suppose I should give credit where credit is due. I should show him the utmost justice. He truly is charming, as he says. A little solemn too, but oh, the things he plans to do. In the evenings, he pulls words from his pocket and revives my drooping spirit. Daily, he uses powers of persuasion and philosophy, overwhelming me with lofty thoughts and comforting phrases-- provocative yet soothing. Soon, he will silence all discussion and draw me to him, under a kiss that falls like a blow to the... Sign in to see full entry.

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