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    dots Submission Name: untitleddots

    Author: Runes
    Elite Ratio:    5.29 - 790/815/281
    Words: 355
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 1292
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2243


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.


    Something is wrong with me.
    It could have been all those lines fiercely dug
    in the proverbial sand that I laughingly
    crossed with exaggerated giant steps,
    daring to walk up to God Himself
    and yank the stick away...
    but something happened, and I don't feel,
    even though I am completely filled,
    and I connect the dots automatically,
    neatly stack empty gestures of social protocol
    like a well-oiled machine of convention,
    but something is corrupt within.

    Last night I dreamed of killing cats
    just to hold their furs flat against my face
    without the annoying purr or bones.

    There is another line ahead of me
    that I know I shouldn't cross, but boredom
    keeps moving me like a renegade chess piece
    that is steadily closing in, and I don't see
    the black and white, and I don't care for
    lose or win, and I don't zig-zag left or right,
    I just keep moving straight ahead...

    I prefer my coffee black. He wastes time
    with cream and sugar and spoons, and stirring.
    He wastes words talking about the morning
    as if he's not alone. I like him better in the dark,
    cuffed and groaning. I barely know him
    when the lights are on.

    Something is wrong in me: I'm ticking...
    Can't you hear it? In the meat below my freckles,
    in the muscle and marrow of my bones...
    The cup I hold is steady.
    My face never twitches.
    But the pendulum is swinging in my brain,
    and I know it won't be long...

    He points to some misty place across the lake,
    where deer sometimes emerge from the forest.
    He's heard a panther scream in the night;
    in the fall, owls nest near his roof.
    I read his ticker taped narrative in my brain
    while his voice drones, then he pulls me
    against him, and breathes into me
    "I could get used to you."

    I wonder vaguely what his skin would feel like
    flat against my face
    without the annoying purr
    or bones...

    Submitted on 2014-05-11 08:57:38     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      This actually makes me think of th Latin Kings. Or lets say if i wrote it that would be who it was about. Something of the sorts.
    | Posted on 2014-05-28 00:00:00 | by cornonthekob | [ Reply to This ]
    I think I have a tic.
    or a demon.
    or am a descendant of
    a god who wept things
    into existence.
    knowing they would only
    fail it later.
    I think I have a tic.

    You said it better.
    | Posted on 2014-05-25 00:00:00 | by MEGASWELL | [ Reply to This ]
      scary scary stuff.....
    | Posted on 2014-05-15 00:00:00 | by cornonthekob | [ Reply to This ]
    Instead of just typing back the entire piece, let me just say the whole thing is tight as a drum and I can't say enough about it.
    I have read it countless times over the past couple days and have not been able to comment for a multitude of reasons. Mostly because the depth of the matter at hand is truly riveting, to the core. There is no connection to anything anymore. They're all there, shit is always down, the world still turns yet nothing. I coulda shoulda woulda have made a semi decent actress. Broke as fuck like in this life but still, I get by without too much suspicion. It's the days where lack of luster is an under statement that give me away. Even my voice is dead, can't write what is jammed inside to save myself of the purgatory that silence brings.
    Most days I say fuck it..stay in sweats, get high, read, write crap that I laugh at when read and basically waste away with a smile.

    This hits me...obviously and I will read again I'm sure.

    You have a definite gift in that voice of yours...that's something
    | Posted on 2014-05-13 00:00:00 | by clay | [ Reply to This ]
      Wow critter, what a decadently jaded debauchery you describe here. Apparently someone has definitely got a screw loose. It's serial killer ominous how you describe the cat's fur flat against your face without the annoying purr or bones. The fact your protagonist dreams of such pleasures is disturbing. It reminds me of a poster I once saw, two vultures sitting in a tree talking about the lack of food with the caption "patience my ass, I'm gonna kill something". Perhaps (believe me I get it why you stole it) you better give God his stick back before the blatantly flagrant arrogance that it's been steals what's left of your humanity and you forget all about being a waitress and neatly stacking your gestures of social protocol.

    | Posted on 2014-05-11 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]

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