Just Call Me Cursed
Profane poetry
I never cursed when I was young,
now the words roll off my tongue.
shit damn fuck
shit damn fuck
shit damn fuck
The way that words
repeating
lose all meaning
does not apply
to the jewels in my vocabulary.
shit damn fuck
shit damn fuck
shit damn fuck
There's power in the cursing
I'm nursing
to keep it strong and steady
to keep it ready
for unfolding and molding
around the edges
of expectations.
shit damn fuck
shit damn fuck
shit damn fuck
If I shocked you
I meant to,
but really,
they're just words,
although,
maybe also,
an avenue to freedom,
and I set foot on that road
and the words flowed
and I no longer know
or care
which came first.
Just call me cursed.
Shit
Damn
Fuck
About the Creator
Maria Shimizu Christensen
Writer living my dreams by day and dreaming up new ones by night
Also, History Major, Senior Accountant, Geek, Fan of cocktails and camping
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The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author6 days ago in Fiction
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