I sometimes have the urge to just write, and write, and write. No promises on it being good writing, but hey.
I welcome all forms of critique. Whatever you feel, I'd love to hear your comments.
MoonlightI did not expect to find you here, beneath the women blooming in the moonlight - breathing in the story of their scars.Moonlight by iridiana
She Wanted ItSometimes, I stalk you.She Wanted It by iridiana
It's always in those desperate moments that come with weekends - when work is over, and there are no thoughts to drive you from my mind, no exhaustion to dull the memories of everything you did.
I have a special account, for this purpose and this purpose alone. I can't see all of your information, but oh - the time I've spent, scrutinising the smiles you adorn on your profile pictures. Hoping, wishing, praying to pull at strings of misery, hiding behind your teeth.
Are you well? Fit? Healthy?
No matter how hard I pore over what you reveal to the world, I can't find any trace of guilt in your eyes - can't detect the slightest hint of remorse in your relaxed pose.
Do you think of me? Do you think of that night? Or is it enough, to tell yourself she wanted it?
Published FictionHere is what I disliked about the place: it was efficient. Efficiency hung in the air and clung to the ties and blouses and pressed skirts and trousers of those around me. Clung like the scent of disinfectant; like industrial bleach, bleeding out the money in my words. I twisted, inwardly. This was not the place to bring my prose.Published Fiction by iridiana
T936126/JRWe're laid out on the porch, breathing in cool air and watching the sky slowly drown in its own fire. There's a silence between us, but somehow it feels different: sticky and caught up, like the words in her throat. She's been running over the creases of the paper in her hands as though in prayer, folding and unfolding, but never quite finding the courage to lay the whole thing bare between us. It ain't like one of those trashy bits of paper spiralling on the breath of the wind. No. This one's different. I get the sense that even if we tossed it, it'd be way too heavy to travel further than the spaces between our ribs.T936126/JR by iridiana
"Dear Mrs. [surname],"
Ain't even kidding. That's how this chapter of her life begun. No Mrs. Scott, No Mrs. This-or-that. Simply, Mrs. [surname]. She bore the law her memories, her heart: heck, a truckload of courage, at that. The system took it in, chewed it up, and decided from hence onwards, she was Mrs. [surname]. Risk versus reward. Money in, m
Ex CutterA pain-guided filigree,Ex Cutter by Anarkki
Once a chasm across your future.
Now a gossamer thin tracery
Obviated by will, and suture.
Can you trace these lines into your past,
Without rancour or remorse?
And cut the threads until, at last
This pain has run its course.
A Tribute to MomI kept the stovetop too hot, I think.A Tribute to Mom by alexiscaitlinking
The sink was laughing in my ear,
and the vent was coughing from smoke.
I quickly apologized to the microwave,
now shrouded in thick black tar.
I don't think he cared all too much.
I could hear the little onions
screaming in the fiery cauldron,
smothered by hot oil, hissing.
I couldn't think. They were blackened
and crispy, tasting of coal.
I looked at my daughter and whispered,
"You cook next time."
Daily Literature Deviations for February 2, 2011Daily Lit Deviations for February 2nd, 2011Daily Literature Deviations for February 2, 2011 by DailyLitDeviations
We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Deviations!
You can show your support by ing this News Article.
Please comment and the features and congratulate the artists!
For all of the featured artists: If you receive a DD for one
of your pieces featured by DLD please note KneelingGlory.
We will include you and your piece in a special recognition news article.
"Seagull, a sigh lent" by myloveliestsequence
An economy of words is counterpoint to the rich,
yet understated imagery in this piece, waves evoked
by judicious placement of parentheses.
Suggested by londonrey
Featured by the-photographicpoet
Echoes by iridiana
This is a beautiful emotionally-distant descrip
unspoken.He walks in, she's aloneunspoken. by Lychalis
In the corner - curled up
In a tiny sphere,
Hiding a face - raw, tearstained.
She's silent now, and
Her breath shakes as he draws near.
She's shuddering -
She wants to recoil,
And has no heart to try.
Reaching her, he sits -
He stays close.
She crumples into him,
A whimper escaping her soft lips.
He curves in around her -