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Cool cold froth slides across their pages they whirl their congratulatory comments like pucks across ice crystal cut sharp and precise waiting for return compliments basting their words with oily accomplishment slick and to strict recipe baking like fat turkeys with temperatures mild and appetites easily assuaged How does a person come to this? They think of words and throw them to the wolves like sticks for return Wolves will take their words strip all bones ragged of stories bury them and then silently, without a backward glance never return (LadyLabyrinth/2019)
“Their pooled emotions wouldn’t fill a teaspoon.” “They sicken of the calm who know the storm.” “That would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone: Wherever she went, including here, it was against her better judgment.” Dot Parker "What Fresh Hell is This?"
"xanny"/Billie Eilish
"Purgatory is a Poem"/ LadyLabyrinth

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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Date: 9/28/2019 9:01:00 AM
Biting my friend...and it's all true...
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Lady Labyrinth
Date: 9/28/2019 9:09:00 AM
yes... "normal", no. "safe"...up to the writer. x
Date: 9/28/2019 8:49:00 AM
Gallows Humour for my sisters, Karen & Melissa ;).
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Lady Labyrinth
Date: 9/28/2019 8:51:00 AM
and of course, any other WRITER who appreciates the GALLOWNESS of it all.