SaccharinI remember his hands; warm and ready, fumbling with the draw-string on his shorts, itching to start and aching to finish. Hands the color of coffee, sweetened with two creams, saccharin-sex and youth.Saccharin
Breathe, I think. Just breathe. I breathe, and the wet-sour stink settles in my nose and mouth, and I can see him on the basketball court, and on the field; his muscles moving too sweetly under his skin that is not-sweet-enough.
I'm doing something right, I know, because he works his pelvis involuntarily, and his breath comes quick and hot and needi
RightingHis too-small hands grasping awkwardly and carefully scrawling in heavy black lines, a memory of a dream. His thoughts, like roots grown in reverse, steadily leak his pencil’s life-blood into the barren soil of the page.Righting
Underground, shapeless salamanders search his veiled imaginings with blinded eyes. What colors burst before their lacking sight,
as with disorderly conduct they stash clumsy letters in the bellybutton of his mind, there to be found when
his literary finger goes a-searching for lint. Satellites of sensory stimu
Today's Lesson Is TopographyHey, tonight’s lecture is on topography. Lie back and let me navigate, I’ve got all the maps. I will lead you down a course, discoursing as we go about those damn fool nights of two shots too many. Tonight’s lecture is no story, song, or rhyme but a lesson in math of the wildest kind. The geometry in our curves bends like so. Watch your footing.Today's Lesson Is Topography
Now, I’ve got some graphs for your ears which require closer examination.
I knew a dead girl once. Upon meeting her in that dark corner of Serengatto’s (it means something in one of those love languages of romance lands) she said
"Do you remember dyi
greenwich streetrushing hurried slick streets, staccato ring-tapgreenwich street
of my little black shoes encircling, a comfort noise, blankets over baby-heads grasped in baby-fists - pacifiers and wet thumbs compounded into that sharp wet crack of hard soles on rained out sidewalks, bone-break sounds
Belle 2
by ~jaescott30
by ~arcquidrone
Texting: 1, 2, 3...
Lonely
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Things that escape my mouth
"I don't like when it's soft, but I don't like it too rough either." - Me talking about paper.
Me: -sticks bottle between legs to hold-
Friend: K____, what are you doing?
Me: What? I always stick things between my legs.
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<smoking-mirrors>I can pretend to have a penis for you, Joe.
<smoking-mirrors>Just like when I was a little girl.
<smoking-mirrors>Except I was a mermaid then.
<caveatLECTOR>with a penis?
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<smoking-mirrors>I can pretend to have a penis for you, Joe.
<smoking-mirrors>Just like when I was a little girl.
<smoking-mirrors>Except I was a mermaid then.
<caveatLECTOR>with a penis?
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Spread The Love, visit a Random Deviant [link]
"Check out and see if you made the next issue of Best of Random Deviant Hello."
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<smoking-mirrors>I can pretend to have a penis for you, Joe.
<smoking-mirrors>Just like when I was a little girl.
<smoking-mirrors>Except I was a mermaid then.
<caveatLECTOR>with a penis?
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Be inspired: *simplyprose and *simplypoetry.
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The 4th issue of Soundzine is out now! Do yourself a favour and get listening
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