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Build

Heads bashed to the floor.

Those children whisper desire
For I can walk up a wall,
And the bodies pump blood to the left side of their muscling skulls.

Imagination haunts,
Feces scent the air-
The only incense existing rots in a ballerina envelope.

Hello?




Hello?









Titanium ringlets whiten my skin
And hot wax accentuates the theme.

Dreams blow in my ear
Night and day,
Night and day…

I suck for nourishment
But,



Only  find blemished faces
Dragging me from my ceiling
Scouring every inch of me for peace.

Author notes

prompt: scars
I tried not to actually include that term but hint at it.
but as my story is still shady here, just note, that to this day the only scars I have left are on my thumbs. they always hurt and they are nasty...

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Comments

1 - 5 of 5

  • Diminished Capacity gold member
    November 7

    Edit | Reply
    I can't even put into words what your write means to me. You did a wonderful job with this piece, absolutely brilliant. Thank you so much for entering my contest.


  • oldschoolhero
    November 5
    Edit | Reply
    oh my..


    ;[


  • fade.
    November 5

    Edit | Reply
    this is cool,
    how you wrote this i mean.
    not the actual fact that you have scars.
    cool vocabulary.
    <3.


  • wbiro gold member
    November 3

    Edit | Reply
    I read your author's notes first, and I was looking for the cause of your thumb scars as I was reading... I concluded it was the climbing up the walls... but no, that was 'walking' up walls, so it was the titanium ringlets... yes... and they were accidentally torn out as you were being dragged from the ceiling by the blemished faces...!

1 - 5 of 5