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Literature Text
The simple thought of touch
whispering little caresses, or hugs or
a hand on an arm, a hand on, well
hands explore, it's what they do
so sure, it was enough, yes siree,
it always was more than enough.
Touch, that old bastard
used to crumple her innards
and smash - what? Her self regard?
But she sat in a pick-up on a hot summer
evening while a good old boy explored.
his hand was dead set
on its destination, but willing
oh yes, he sure is a pro!
willing to take it niiiiice and easy
because, face it honey, it'll be a touchdown
he's real good and you're a little stupid
in this summer heat.
And in a hot car on a hot summer a hot hand
slid down
Oh god my mama bought this skirt
My mommy bought this skirt
so she punched him
then sat in his car
and cried
and he let her cry on his shoulder
He wasn't even a bad young man
but she didn't talk to him again.
One morning she rolled over
watched her pretty bedmate sleep
mama was wrong about heaven, I think
because I've never felt it before
not in a hot car never-
I do now.
A thigh showed and the stomach bare
was a playground for window shadows
rippling and dancing on the skin
the skin she liked to touch
the sun glanced off
the cross that hung between
her breasts
mama was wrong about heaven, I think
and then sleepy eyes fluttered open
Hello good morning love you
was said and said again
They always talked in the morning.
whispering little caresses, or hugs or
a hand on an arm, a hand on, well
hands explore, it's what they do
so sure, it was enough, yes siree,
it always was more than enough.
Touch, that old bastard
used to crumple her innards
and smash - what? Her self regard?
But she sat in a pick-up on a hot summer
evening while a good old boy explored.
his hand was dead set
on its destination, but willing
oh yes, he sure is a pro!
willing to take it niiiiice and easy
because, face it honey, it'll be a touchdown
he's real good and you're a little stupid
in this summer heat.
And in a hot car on a hot summer a hot hand
slid down
Oh god my mama bought this skirt
My mommy bought this skirt
so she punched him
then sat in his car
and cried
and he let her cry on his shoulder
He wasn't even a bad young man
but she didn't talk to him again.
One morning she rolled over
watched her pretty bedmate sleep
mama was wrong about heaven, I think
because I've never felt it before
not in a hot car never-
I do now.
A thigh showed and the stomach bare
was a playground for window shadows
rippling and dancing on the skin
the skin she liked to touch
the sun glanced off
the cross that hung between
her breasts
mama was wrong about heaven, I think
and then sleepy eyes fluttered open
Hello good morning love you
was said and said again
They always talked in the morning.
Literature
Soccer Ringer 2 [TG-AR]
Chapter 2 - Not a Big Deal?
---
Jacob looked up at Eve, terror apparent on her gentle features. Jacob's once sharp nose had softened into a delicate, slightly upturned profile, and her head as a whole had shrunk. Her lips had become a tiny bit more plump, granting her fear a forlorn, puppy-like quality. Jacob and Eve were the same size now with the same build, but Jacob was pretty. Pretty enough that Eve might have almost felt jealous, if not for how confused and frightened her sister was.
A pang of concern shot through Eve’s heart. She’d forgotten how disorienting a magical transformation could be. This hadn’t been the p
Literature
The Fly-Girl - Episode 8
Fly-Girl: Episode 8 “The Angel of Gossip” Rebecca Harris could have been nervous for a lot of things. Driving lessons, the thoughts of living on her own, and then some, but for some reason, sitting in the waiting room for the therapist she found did the trick. It had been barely a week since the fight against Veronica, but it still weighed heavily on the young woman. “Ironic since everyone seems to have forgotten it,” she mumbled to herself. The teen was thankful since the waiting room was rather empty aside from a couple folks zoning out. Rebecca exhaled, clutching a bag of spare clothes she was instructed to bring. While it dealt with anger management, the practice focused on help through yoga. It was something that never crossed Rebecca’s mind. The young woman warily shrugged, “I guess I could try this yoga thing. Place was close by and highly rated. Seems good, right?” “Rebecca?” a calm voice called out, prompting Rebecca to bounce up to
Literature
THE MAN WHO NEVER WAS
A lone man sits before a table, staring down at his laptop screen, typing something in quick succession. A typical scene one might deem ordinary, a daily routine in our modern age, everyone does it. So what makes this one special? What I’m saying now may sound cruel and uncaring, but there is nothing special about this individual. He is just a man sitting at his table typing on his laptop, and…! The Man looked up confusedly out of the blue as if he heard something that wasn't supposed to be there. A sharp look of piecing anger briefly showed upon his face as he looked around his tiny kitchen with the scratched floor and white shove. Wait, what is he doing? The light was dim, casting shadows that obscured some corners of the room, making it feel more claustrophobic than it was. The wind outside began to howl, an ominous sound that echoed through the empty kitchen. The Man looked out his window, but nothing but the black of night, and the wind kept howling outside. No boogeymen
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Cut down. This is short when I write free verse now, apparently. Hopefully it flows better, now. I'm keeping both in the gallery. I'm probably losing some watchers to my terrible poetry, anyways.
© 2012 - 2024 IntelligentZombie
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