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1  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Glitter on: December 12, 2017, 11:58:22 PM
I dip my toes into the glitter frosted tide pool.   Life clings to edges of slippery wall, laced with salt stuffed barnacles.   Humid days leave nice popcorn shaped clouds above my head, leaving a layer of sticky fishy residue on my exposed arm and legs.   Waves slap and smack feet away sucking the whole power of the ocean in and out of tunnels that have been sanded down over millions of years.   I am a speck of dust observing other specks of dust with a familiar gaze catching flickers of gold flakes reflecting sun rays dripping through the grey canopy above me.   Savory flavors of ocean's kiss seeps into my mouth as i inhale in a barrel chested breath trying to grab some of her mysterious powers into my blood.  The horizontal remains factual in the distance undisturbed by my questions of history or my emotions now clearing from my heart.  As the rocks become smoothed down with the tides hands so do my worries.  Each soft swooshing releases the heaviness back in the sea as I return from where I came. A prehistoric prodigal son.
2  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Palm Tree on: December 08, 2017, 11:06:31 AM
Under a low ceiling of swaying arms above my head, the sky felt small.  Walking a winding sand floored trail my heart began to ease, matching each lobbing step towards a salt splashed opening.  The air was full of sea salt my lungs crystallized its healing properties calming my pulse to a low hum.  My eyes glazed over as if I was stoned from hits of mother nature's fragrance.  I could see the sea's horizon rise above the sandís natural curves following the raising and lowering of the earth curve.   Gently rustles shook over me as the warm Hawaiian breeze reath itself throughout the evergreen canopy.  Palm trees sand their siren song of relaxation.  I could already taste the bubbly sour corona waiting in my cooler.  Once the clearing opened up the sounds of laughing waves brought a smile to my face and softening to my eyes, hiding behind wood framed sunglasses.  I felt as if I was the only person on the island, this is my kingdom sworn to protect.   Occasional thuds from falling coconuts made me wish I had a bowl of the fruitís semi sweet fatty white meat in front of me right now.  I let the blanket of perfect temperature air tuck me in to sleep.  This is my home now.
3  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Cheer on: December 05, 2017, 09:33:47 AM
Her cheer bounces like bubbles above my head.   Infectious to the touch her movements were light and made the room feel warm like recognizing a familiar face.   She wears a red knitted sweater with a couple decades woven into each patterned patch sloppily sown onto the front and back.  Her yellowish-white teeth are always showing sending electric signals, making the corners of my mouth stand for no reason.   My cheek bones began to shake under tension of our constant smiles.   Cinnamon mint aroma sits quietly in the corner, only speaking up for seasonal reminders or when beckoned by this sweet little old lady, who is now reminding me of my grandmother.  Sweet, sugary memories sent my blood sugar soaring with delight as I relive so many Christmas days past in mere seconds.  Every year, she turns this boring office building into a factory of joy and light, something these walls haven't seen at least for months.  Her laughs will still be heard when I walk past the lunch room.  We needed this.
4  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Oxen on: December 04, 2017, 04:19:47 PM
We are oxen, pulling bonded baggage through a dirt covered world.  If you stare long enough, one can see tracks of pain, lessons, and victories we hold onto trailing behind our neighboring strangers.  Grabbing a grizzled rope and placing the weight of the world upon ourselves, we trudge through days and nights that seem to have no end.   Scraping and shuffling our priorities, desires, and fears, our heart seems so over worked that sweat begins to form on furrowed brow almost breaking under the heaviness of each drop.    Our tired legs beat on dust covered paths leading to a future unknown.  When will put down our cart overflowed with a past we feel we must protect?    When will be become human and separate our selves from beast?  Suddenly, outbursts we see manifested at road rage, fist fights or senseless hate becomes a clear picture of how much each person is pulling.   Wobbly heaving out cries for someone to save us, people pass by with carts of their own filled to the streaking sky praying it doesnít rain making our choices muddy.   Wiping salt and blood from our foreheads, we carry on,begging for a cool clean taste of relief, something to get this weight off of our collarbones, if only for a moment.
5  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Trunk on: August 15, 2017, 08:34:28 AM
Her memory haunted her, even in her sleep.  Tossing, turning, tangled in her sweaty sheets, the soft sweet smell of morning's dew began to hit her and she knew she barely slept.  Was is it about thoughts that keep us in their stranglehold, unable to cut loose ? During the day, bouncing from task to task, she is able to keep them locked away like forgotten items rolling around in her rusty blue mid 90's Oldsmobile.   Burning candles down to the butt, only to immediately light another one.   Shaky hands hold on the wheel, praying that one day regret leaves her alone.   In the absence of sound, only found in her downtown one bedroom apartment she prepares for another battle. A bitter bite of her TV dinner, only tastes of smoke and nicotine, chain smoking in an effort to keep from thinking.  Another fight lost.
6  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Bedroom on: August 13, 2017, 12:04:00 PM
I can't wait to see you tonight.   When you walk through that door with the full weight of the world draped over your shoulders, I'll be waiting.  My internal clock is as spot on as yours.  I know that you are day dreaming right now about my soft curves, edges fluffed to perfection, just the way you left it when you left.   Let the whizzing, whining cars weave in front of you, beeping with anxious hesitation.  Let them suffer as you take solace tonight upon my body.   Life two giant arms holding you, rocking you to sleep, your head rests against mine.     Free fall into me, and let the honey like lavender puff into the air, sweet enough to taste as you gently close your eyes, burned by the days ravenous energy.  I'll always be there for you.   Shut the blinds, cause tomorrow you're sleeping in.  They close as a drawbridge to the castle you have created.   I can feel your heart slowing down, a relaxing beat to doze off to.  Goodnight sweet prince.
7  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Bottle on: August 08, 2017, 07:23:57 AM
She clung to the brown translucent bottle as if it was the the only thing tethering her to the floor.  The eggshell walls of her apartment have already begun shifting places in a counterclockwise fashion, picking up speed with each return to the spicy, bitter drink of sour mash whiskey circling the butt the of the glass container.   Alone, except for her demons whispering self defeating thoughts into her unusually little ears. She tries to quiet them, if only for a moment, by numbing her senses.   Unaware that she reeks of old laundry and alcohol, she knows not leave the house in a state like this as the last couple she conversed with recoiled in horror at her very site.    Running her frail fingers down the neck of the handle, as if choking the life from it, she traces the beveled lines around the logo.  Stuck in a trance, her heart beats remains steady and slow tempo-ed.  Will anyone come looking for her?
8  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Eyes on: August 01, 2017, 08:17:34 AM
Eyes may be the window to the soul, but they are only the window.  Like stained glass surface, beveled, refracting light, often times what is happening on the inside can not be accessed by passersby.  What secrets do we have locked behind those colorful panels?   When the light hits her just right, you can see into her soul as she inhales the fragrant springtime flowers all marigolds and dandelions, casting her hands into the air to catch bumbling butterflies.   Twirling her dress as a carefree dreidel she opens the windows and lets the breeze in, and in that moment I know everything about her.  She makes the world so small that only her and I can fit inside of it.  My thumping heart slaps Morris code against my rib cage, mimicking her excitement.   Bouquets of sporadic laughter tied together with sugar midst her spearmint gum and time,  this time.
9  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Loner on: July 31, 2017, 11:26:42 PM
It's almost like walking through water.  Muffled sounds fall flat in front of you, barely missing each word.  People think that you can just, snap out of it.   110 pounds soaking wet, he walked the halls of the fluorescent lit, tan and white marbled, linoleum floor.   This is what a ghost feels like.   Wispy shutters of an unsure breath echo in his mind.  Nylon stitching from his torn backpack digs into his shoulder, overpacked causing a hunch in his back.  A sweet smell of girls he'll never talk to sends his heart into a frenzy, faster then slower, then fast again his step is so out of sync that he squeaks his cheap Skechers every 5th step, creating some sort of awkward song.  His tongue weighs down on his stale yellow overbite.  Worlds away from any meaningful relationship he dreams of being the first voyage to mars, he could see the module make its dust covered descent into a howling world where there was no one to impress, only new opportunities.
10  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Sheet on: July 27, 2017, 08:08:24 AM
We lay across the smoky sheets of a cheap motel, somewhere between our old house and the new one.  Moving across blurry state lines, following the straight dismal roads that seem to go on forever.   Each town we pass is a photocopy of the one before it, each one degrading under the full weight of time eroding in the heat waves dancing on the pavement.  A scratchy maroon - yellow swirl designed duvet sits folded at the end of bed, folded as if to dispose of a horrible accident.   These rooms are a book I want to read.    Thick stale air, covered in the sins of those running to or from something.   Our legs are stiff from a long day of sitting in one position, perfectly massaged into a state of veil.   Pacing the room like an anxious tiger in a habitat way too small for its size, I check the moldy mini fridge for some sort of excitement, but the sticky faded yellowish tint, recoils my hand.  The smell of rotting water and old noodles fills the room.  The interstate howls into the black mute night, almost laughing at how far we have to go.   Cars flicker headlight patterns as the crunch of tires come to rest in the parking lot 2 feet from our door.  Please world, don't spin under our tires keeping us in the same spot, never actually going anywhere, we have a life to live.
11  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Styrofaom on: July 24, 2017, 11:27:52 PM
Squeezing the cup, coiling my wrist, I smacked the inner side of the vessel with a mound of coins and couple crumpled up bills.  On corner bubbling with dimwitted sunburnt tourists, one can make upwards of two hundred dollars for a days work.  Lathered shoulders emit a pina colada sorbet, swirled with the crashing mist of the jetty break wall.  The Summer rush has seeped into this town like sand through fists.  Before you knew it, the quiet streets were overtaken by drunks, entitled teenagers, and families with 6 or more children, tied together like a herd of elephants.  The city walls shrunk overnight.  My skin soaked in the heatwaves of the asphalt street divider.
12  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Premonition on: July 24, 2017, 10:59:31 PM
A sliver of dank chills spilled down my spine my gaze fell upon the cemetery gates.  I have been here before.  Not physically, but in a dream.  Or was it a dream ? Maybe I left my body while my eyes were closed at night floating weightless, fluid on the ether flowing along and through all objects connected in the dimensions we inhabit.  I remember the smell of the wet dew drenched grass blades stretching towards the warmth of the sun.   The far off clicks and swooshing of the sprinklers lining the edge of the grounds.   Even down the dress the my aunt was wearing, outdated, black and missing a button on the pocket, now only a sad dangling thread it left in its place.   The gravel road drew a line leading to the plot of land where Grandpa would lay.   The thought of deja vu bounced around my distracted head, pinging thoughts and memories no longer attached to any timeline.  The past was the future and the future is the present.   My wool coat scratched the surviving hairs of the morning's shave, making it even harder to breath.   Blood was now starting to return to my legs, trekking up an incline like ants at a picnic, all black and singlefile.   I have been here before.  Maybe a message that there is something beyond.
13  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Hickory on: July 19, 2017, 12:07:11 AM
I felt so small next to him.   As if carved out of the solid granite mountain tops that surrounded his cabin in the woods, I stood in awe of the shadow he cast.   We don't see much of grandpa, since we're a couple state lines away, but every chance I get to come to this secret trail's end in the backwoods, I take it.   His presence could be felt pulling up to the rusty, desolete getaway protected by redwood canopy.  The air nourished our lungs as we jumped out of the car and ran for the door.   His grip was strong yet gentle, and his soft worn in button up tan plaid shirt smelled of hickory tobacco and oil.   The wind pulled the branches creaking their connective tissue, sending the sweet pine smell to brush anything exposed to it's cool touch.   I can still taste air thick with green moss, covering the house, so fresh, wet and relaxing.   When we're here, we're home.
14  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Gin on: July 11, 2017, 08:29:54 AM
People pass by, unaware of the man hunched over against the red marble wall cornered against a skyscraper busting with bankers, interns, and their deliveries.   He's almost a fixture, a fleshy gargoyle affixed into the background.  No one is aware of the life he's led, the struggles he's wrestled against, that now leaves him sheltered only by the scratchy wool coat draped over his bony shoulders.  To them, he's graffiti or grayish red gum scraped on the gold speckled concrete, the city's problem.   His pungent unwashed hair fumigates a shrinking radius.  His bulbous red gin nose peaks up involuntarily at passing engines and horns screaming at the intersection.  What makes this life unnoticeable?  Why is no one helping ?  His shaking from withdrawals turns his hot breath into acid.  He's become a piece of the dilapidated city street left to rot, crushed under gravity and time.
15  ObjectWriting / Object Writing Word Of The Day / Quilt on: June 27, 2017, 03:15:21 PM
He clutched the tattered quilt between his chin and chest, trying to gain balance as he fell closer into the darkness of the afterlife.  Surrounded  by his family, the familiar scents of everyone's favorite shampoos, colognes, and perfumes swirled together and swept across his damp forehead, now matted with his unkempt gray hair.   A chemical smile revealed the love he was receiving while the bitter aftertaste of chalky pain killers and regret for the things he should have done leave a white ring around his drying lips. Sinking deeper into the lumpy outdated hospital bed,  he begins his final decent into the unknown.  His fingers slowly loosen from the woven family heirloom,  crafted with fabrics of time, memory, held together with sloppy stitching and sweet nostalgia.  A final rattled sigh exhales from his failing lungs.  The world shrinks. We know he's in a better place now.
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