• crepe paper

    She lies therenaked, still,silentlegs parted like memory.Breasts fall sideways,eyes sealed,skin pale,blotched,creped,the blush long gone.We played this game often when skins were warmNowher skin is cold,I touch the silence.my Siren sleepsour long desirebreathes its last.ThenA thought enters my mindtravels down...

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    Willow wrote a new post

    Ink Therapy

    I trap memories in versescribbling in my sleepetching them so deeply...they become permanent marksfading slowly over time...leaving beautiful scars it's a medication...needed to survive{pre}scribed for internal healingit comes with no deadening propertiesno sedatives...but it's my personal narcotic I won't deny the...

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    • I second this addiction. I feel lost and unfocused if I do not write.

    • I third this addiction.

      I love the written word..mine and others.

      Great write,right,rite,wright….lol

    • Very relatable Willow. Thank you for sharing 💕

    • Brilliantly penned, Willow. Into the book it belongs! Infectious vibe your words and the musical arrangement my friend. It’s the one addiction that I feed and I refuse to kick. You summed it up well as you always do. Loved this one Willow. Excellent work. Appreciate you.

      Damian

      • I think this addiction is more healing than harming. It’s how we clear headspace and reset. About whatever is naggin’ the noggin. I knew you would feel this one too. Thank you, my friend

    • You express perfectly what most of us here feel, dear Willow! It’s the same with me – I scream, weep, bleed and laugh my soul onto the paper.

      • We are a special breed. I’m just glad we have a little safety bubble here. Thank you, Elke

    • It’s horrific, that ‘silent scream’, the self-reflection not seen in the mirror, the expression held inside. I hear your pen, Willow. It’s LOUD!!! But I welcome it. Let the ink flow, make Rorschach’s of rage across the page. Just know, you are seen!

      Curt

      • As long as I’m “screaming,” no need to worry. If I suddenly stop…check for a pulse. Thank you, Curt

    • I don’t run the pen. It runs me, girl. As Shrek said…Better out than in. Excise the wounds so they can heal clean. Thank you, girl. You wield a mighty pen yourself

    • Thank you, Thomas

  • Profile picture of Paula Jobi

    Paula Jobi wrote a new post

    MUD WRESTLING

    MUD WRESTLINGA $10 rave had a wet t-shirt contestand topless mudpit wrestling. $50and $100 prizes. Massive triple-D boobs easily won for wet t-shirt. Only four entered for mud play.I had a one in four chance. Ruleswere that you couldn't...

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    Paula Jobi wrote a new post

    AFLAME

    AFLAME It's 3am. The flames dance.Hot memories flash.I embrace them.I am not afraid.For they give me comfort.My heart is on fire! A burning lust. I will melt for the right person.

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    Neville wrote a new post

    Secrets of the Field

    Secrets of the Field Above the green and yellow   rape set field, a pair of white, fixed wing gliders begin to arc and wheel, in search of aerial ecstasy    like two sky hungry falcons .. Oblivious to gasp and sigh, invisible to naked eye amid the...

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    • This hurts. a lot of deep meaning behind this.

    • Powerfully penned, Neville. Wow the pain and hurt in your words cut deep my friend. Excellent write. Appreciate you.

      Damian

    • Too many ghosts, too many horrors in that field, Neville. I can imagine if you look close enough, you can see blood mingling with the grass, feel the stabs and thrusts, hear the screams. A place where even a blue sky, soaring hawks, and warm sun, cannot make this place feel safe, welcoming.

      Beautifully written Neville.

      Curt

    • Although seemingly it was just a field, it was also one of those rather special places I happened to stumble upon that had its own very strong atmosphere .. a bit like Lourdes, or Deeley Plaza (for me anyway) .. and it was only afterwards when I did a spot of research that I found out about the history .. I can still feel it now as I type this thank you .. Thanks a million Curt .. Neville 😎👍

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