"Morals Seem to be for Those Who Have More Time"
Rattlesnakes explode from the drawer when she opens it (when I'm not there), with the dangerous sound like death. And I should have known the purpose to the dried tail-end sac of the snake, the significance of the sound. At some point, it should have dawned on me that the noise was warning wrapped in intentions. And unlike the paltry warnings I had given her of what I would do if I ever saw something I didn't want to see, these non-words carried the weight of connection to decided consequence. That's the problem with not knowing what to do when the inevitable happens--something else beats you to the consequence.
My thoughts vaguely swirling around teeth marks and venom, I'll just close the drawer and pretend I didn't see a ticket for a movie I had never seen, and a gift I'd never given, and a picture of someone I don't know with his arms around someone I don't know anymore. Antidotes are for the itch, and the medicine at the bottom of this bottle is for numbness. With one or the other, I'll eventually be able to crawl in the drawer and take her with me. I didn't say it was right; I only said it was the most exciting path to destruction. Snakebites come tomorrow.
have chewed off my fingers and spit them back up
for me to have typed this.
have choked me into submission and forced
me to clean up my room for company.
have rattled their fingers
at me for not being more creative.
And at our lovely mod for not using my prompt yet :p
Fuck off. Don't touch. I bite.
but your creepy fingers just might
prove a pretty nibble tonight.
Hi all! Its my first time posting....
The consistent sound, pulsating beat, it mesmerizes me. I know I should run, but I can't. The golden sun tints its flesh of scales. Quietly, I sit down. Understandingly, I watch this feared animal go about its day, killing animals for its food; much as humans do, except it doesn't pay someone to do it for him. We come to a silent understanding, that fear is of the unknown, and not always rational.
Ok, yeah, so that sucked; but my next one will be better...I promise ;)
My mother seemed, to me, a superwoman; heroine of my childhood, beautiful and wise and strong - stronger than I thought I could ever be. But there was one thing she feared, just one, and although she knew it was an irrational fear, it still haunted her - snakes. Big ones, small ones, green or black or red - but especially rattlesnakes.
She would dream of them at night; they would make their way up her body, creeping around her legs, her arms, their awful sounds waking her. She would wake herself up in fear, switch on the lights and climb into bed beside me for comfort.
But now she's gone
And it's me who has to be strong.
I want to dream of her;
but instead, now, it is I who dream of rattlesnakes.
The day has been soaked by 4AM thunder, and lightening -- the kind that sounds, and looks, like an atom bomb. Does an atom bomb make a sound? I wonder. The forsythia's leaves are now bright green, but soaked with rain and dew. The day looks promising, however. So, I sit and look out my window as I type.
There is something coiling up my body. It tangles around my legs; tying them together, far too tightly. Now my arms, my neck, etc., until I am totally bound together. There is a Mexican rattle somewhere in this house, I'm sure. But who would be shaking it at 7:40AM? Why so early, and without cause? Strange days, strange days.
...This is incredibly weird, and a sign of my new sleeping pattern. My new sleeping pattern consists of waking up at 6AM. Forgive the incoherence, and consequent humor, of my entry.