Cancer

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.

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Setting Suns

Clouds crawl like vines across the darkening
sky absorbing hues of a setting sun
retreating past a foreign horizon.
A lone woman stands beneath its growing
mass with head tilted back to see its forms.
The wind dances around her legs and soars
towards the majesty of the Lady
in the Moon. She envisions a brighter
world just beyond her senses and soft touch.
Ignoring temptation, she wanders home.

Steal Claws

I’ll fly higher than your chains can reach

Break their steal claws, biting me

Your torturous touch shall fade with time

As will ‘precious’ memories.

This toxic love will lose its power

Its venom removed from my heart
My feathered wings will soar ever higher

Whilst you sink into the muddied ground.

Very Short Stories, Week 11

Another Monday is upon us! Are you bright eyed and bushy tailed? I’m certainly not! Past week has given me a cold that’s laid me right out, and a bacterial infection in my eye to boot.

However I’m finally starting to feel like myself again despite this lingering cough and eye drops given three times a day. And just in time for Canada Day!

Not sure my husband and I will do the fireworks tonight, but who knows? I do so enjoy how they light up a dark sky. (The thought of them scaring critters and pets does bug me though, and I’m unsure I will let us stock pile them in the future).

Enough of that though! I know you’re here for my #vss365(s) of the week so here they are! Hopefully they meet standards since clogged sinuses have put enough pressure on my brain to render it ineffective.

 

June 25th

#Silver strands peppered his black mane, each a story of its own. Brown eyes pierced others as he stalked the aisles, looking for her. The rattle of a cart drew him like a moth to the flame, and he came up behind her.

A pinch drew her scream, and she turned, “You scared me!”

 

June 26th

The #Mythos surrounding the patterned stones were varied, and far from the truth. Some claimed they were from the stars, left by beings unknown. Others vowed they were remnants of science long since forgotten.

She didn’t care what the truth was, for they were hers.

 

June 27th

Bombs fell from the sky like pebbles thrown into blue waters. Their ripples devastated, destroyed, and left nothing untouched. Orders from the #Regime were cruel and calculated, but they still had many enemies. Some hid in the very walls they hoped protected them.

 

June 28th

This #Epoch would be marked as racist, sexist, and cruel. Leaders of countries would strive for change yet slip backwards in the mires of their ignorant makings. Women lose rights, safety, security. Men fight to be emotional, brave, allies. We all suffer as EQUALS though.

 

June 29th

#Protect me? she scoffed. I don’t need it.

Stunned by her wilfulness, he grabbed her wrist before she could walk away. ‘I wasn’t d-‘

His sentence remained unfinished as she grasped his arm, yanked it off her, and pinned it behind his back.

Don’t touch me, she spat.

 

June 30th

His #psyche bubbled like a witch’s cauldron, brimming over with his joy. Another twig tossed on the fire at his feet, the flickering flames taunted the air with their heat, but the moment was ruined. The gagged whimpers of his victim drowned out the soothing crackles.

 

July 1st

Behind black curtains, a female voice beckoned. The soft lilt eerie in the dusk winds of the carnival, but the stranger pushed through the velvet barrier anyways. Their eyes met in the candlelit tent and his heart raced as she rose.

Would you like to know your #fortune?

 

Punching Bag

Can’t take another punch today

I wish this pain would go away

 

Another kick will lay me low

And put my heart through another go

 

No will to rise up and stand

Rather the Darkness holds my hand

 

I know well its bitter touch

And yet this world’s become too much

 

So as I lay down to sleep

I hope my soul, it will keep

 

For if tomorrow waits my gaze

I’ll welcome its numbing ways.

Passion’s Pyre

Music pounded above the chatter

the beat louder than the melody

but she swayed to it.

 

Downing her whiskey in a chug

she rose from the table

and danced to the center of the writhing bodies.

 

Surrounded on all sides

she twirled her lithe form

like a lustful seductress.

 

Sex filled the air as she danced.

Warm, liquid, and kinky.

Begging behind the bars of it’s cage.

 

His electric touch summoned her.

The promise of fulfillment

on his velvet lips.

 

Pulled into a dark room

She tasted the sweet liquer

Of his passion.

 

Wrapped about his waist

he pounded at her chains

and she moaned for freedom.

 

Her nails dug into his shoulders

Desperate to hold on

Drawing a groan from him.

 

Sweat beaded on their foreheads

Its scent beneath the musk of need

And in a cry they succumbed.