The scavenger ravaged, tearing each moment from bliss to shit. He tore through the fleshy coated layers, deep into parts of me I never knew did exist. Fighting, I tried to use my limbs in a flailing block, yet he chewed through them like butter in the hot. The final moment of resist, coming to the conclusion to just die and give in, letting go of all the thought of win. It was then when I ended my side, the challenge was over and the scavenger sat abide. There is no fight if only one walks the strife. In that final release, my flesh restored, I was finally set free.
inspired by the prompt ‘scavenger’ at typetrigger.com
I walked through the swarm of coralescent dragonflies. The shine of ray splashed on their iridescent wings, a reflection of golden sol sparkle hit my eyes. I drifted in its menagerie, wandering boldly through the looking-glass, there I met eyes with the tree. Letting go to the shimmer of the moments verved brass, we met edges and bonded in serendipity. All but one step left, we carved cups, locking our link chained in eighted infinity.
inspired by the prompt ‘all but one’ at www.typetrigger.com
He stood before me, a face like stone mason carving. I brought in his space and grazed my tongue along his cheek. Under each gentle pass of my affection, his stone melted into supple skin.
She stood before me, a face like ceramic painted mask. I brought in her space and kissed away her dark crimson lips. In our pressed greeting, her mask cracked into pieces leaving only tangerine blushing cheeks.
I stand before me, a face like all those whom I see. I bring in their space and caress each as unique. Under my umbrella arms, raining tears streak faces that melt into bone, revealing our commonality.
inspired by the prompt ‘a face like’ at typetrigger.com
I blew my whistle in pace, ensuring that I gave each of them their due respect as their shadows hit the wall. It started with seven, the faithful and supportive, there for all the falls. Running head high she carved the way for the reliable six. Staying behind to help the rest, six always giving me the nod of head to chest.
In their usual cluster came bursting five, four and three, a wind of charm and zealous wrapped in joyful curiosity. Great for the sprint, but unable to carry the long cross, I smile at their inevitable chaos. A smile because it is shortly preceded by the calm peace of two. Two so sweet, running on love it always seemed that clouds carried her feet.
This is how I run the numbers, each day in practice, me with the whistle and they providing the intrinsic countdown to the one.
Inspired by the prompt ‘run the numbers’ at typetrigger.com