Another weekend has come and gone and I already long for the next one. I find them relaxing in such a new way in the fall. Here’s hoping Autumn will help me blossom.
Anyways, I tried to not to be too repetitive with this week’s set of prompts and I think I pulled it off. Not gonna lie, I feel I have lost the sensory aspect of my writing and I’m trying to tap into it again. Working on my description that way as it were. So here’s hoping that’s noticeable in the future!
September 17th
The wolves prowled the ground, tracking the scent until they came across their prey. Low to the ground, they crawled forward in the dense grass. In the quiet evening sun, their paws dashed forward in thunderous waves. Their #carnivorous fangs sank into the fat of the calf.
September 18th
His warmth welcomes her, leaves her #infatuated with his presence. His words soothe her, teaching her to love who he is inside.
But their souls?
Those meet in the dark nights, wrapped in need and want for each other. Connecting their broken pieces for one whole being.
September 19th
The path into the dark is never lined with light. It’s a #cavernous descent into the bowels of one’s own soul. Eyes adjust slowly to constant night and it’s left to one’s imagination how the trail begun. But it is home now. Its warmth and smell of brimstone there always.
September 20th
In the heat of the moment, passion #devours the mind. Thoughts of laundry and chores vanish. And they’re at the edge, the peak, the tiptop of release. They disintegrate into a husk rocked by wave after wave of climax. The body controls the wheel and only lets go after orgasm.
September 21st
In the depths of her bones, in its very #marrow, were the answers to her abilities. And she couldn’t let him harvest it. Struggling against the restraints, they frayed and snapped, freeing her. She grabbed the thin shaft of the scalpel and lashed out at the doctors.
September 22nd
My #garden lies barren. Its soil hard and unyielding. There are no weeds to pull, no flowers to tend. Instead it weakens further, unnurtured. The sun dries it and the wind kicks at its dust. When the rain comes, I fear it will be too late. Another patch of death.
September 23rd
The #Equinox seemed to approach faster this year, leaving her frazzled. She ran her hand through her hair and collected the stones she owned. The polished black of the hematite called to her and she held its rounded edges in her palm. This will do, she thought and began.
Her eyes feast
on wanton flesh
and passion’s flames
flicker like bonfires.
in her sultry gaze
He saunters forward
confidence oozing
from his naked skin
It pulls her in
like gravity
and begs her to feed
on him
of him
until he runs dry.
She’s staring into empty eyes
and yet the thirst
still thrives
Time to find another
and dine
again.
Chest constricts
expands
ripping my broken
heart.
I can only imagine
your suffering.
Rushed breaths
fill the quiet.
Your body bounces
with the struggle.
Your ribs rise and fall
like a dying empire.
Your heart races
against a clock
wound against you.
Your brothers wait
for you in a pain free
Heaven
and I’ll see you there
in
time.
Wails rip my throat
raw with despair
My heart now shards
broken pieces
tearing
free in force
to make me feel
every
single
tear.
His cold body in my arms
It’s a reminder
of a bright light
snuffed out.
His flame flickers
weaker and weaker
gone like the wind
in an instance.
I long to hear his
heart beat like a drum
but its silence is a
deafening blow
and I dissolve into the pain
of his absence.
I
Hate
Cancer.
Its hand creep and crawl
like warped vines.
Its touch tarnishes and taints
like nails on a chalkboard.
Vile like stomach bile,
Its hold on another one
of those I love.
Is there anything
it won’t take?
Cancer’s game is destruction.
Barbed wire around organs
constricted and stabbed
for working.
Lungs riddled with it.
Every breath a growing burn.
I yearn to ease his pain
and pray peace
finds him in sleep.
Kember's Journey 