give your actions a boost
when you are always there
you are my
snuggle puppy
in bed
every mornin’
when I can imagine
unparalleled
endless possibilities
durin’ a home screenin’;
projections
manifestations
incantations
from your head to mine
in the best smug smile
seepin’
sloppy
snap out of it
in two
dozed off
in a hot bed
harebrained
idea from the start
or a dream comin’ true?
while I focus on
keepin’ order imposed then
when I don’t want to
follow it
just sit by your side
and your cushy character mark
givin’ my actions a boost
each time
of your physical presence
presumably harsh
knowin’ that inside
it’s a heart of gold
competin’
with my diamond in the rough
in case of emergency
to show
how to get out of an impasse ;
intestinal invasions
of my brain
at the pace
of the tram
without stoppin’ at the right
stations
where all the clues have been placed
too cursory
to make
them found
at the much-needed time
*
August 2022
***
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About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
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Trigger warnings: Violence, Death. "May the Sun burn your tongue out, woman," Fredrick's father screamed the curse into his mother's ear as their elegant little carriage rumbled along, its polished wood and gilded trim glinting in the torchlight. They had just left the small village of Saffron and were on an unnamed road to the capital for the Royal wedding. Fredrick leaned back in his plush velvet seat to escape into the passing landscape, but across from him sat the servant boy, a scrappy lad named Jack. Jack's eyes held a mixture of awe and fear, the kind that only a commoner could feel in the presence of nobility. Jack looked up and caught Fredrick's gaze, offering him a sad little smile before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a little caramel treat. This candy was no doubt stolen from the kitchen treat cupboard; if he was caught with it, he would be locked in the box as punishment.
By Frank English7 days ago in Fiction
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