Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

November 15, 2019, 01:49:40 PM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
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Author Topic: Comb  (Read 221 times)
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« on: January 13, 2019, 12:10:56 AM »

the comb is barely protruding from the workman's pocket, the hammers and mandrills shout at the wrong time, they are chisels in the air, they pierce the tranquility and the silence of the street, an echo that bounces between the buildings like a red rubber ball, like when we played in school, in the patio it was very sunny and Marianna was hit by the ball in the forehead, fell without delay, collapsing with her eyes back ... I ran among the people ... diffuse collage of anguished voices, people who do not collaborate , who just wants to look ... stop in their lane to see the accident and say they were there, on the highway happens every time ... the lower back begins to ache and contract, hard meat without circulation, strangled, a heavy block that seeks to expand ... the massage helps sometimes, the hands of that woman over all my body, they glided greasily and touched my private parts, they just brushed and seemed to have permission to do so, smelled of incense and I could not see nothing,
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