Monastery life was not for him.
Orders were like frats in his book, and he had had enough of them in college.
Now instead of hazing, there were vows of silence and all these prayer times.
Knowing he would get three square meals a day made it all worthwhile, though.
So he signed on the dotted line. Wait till they found out he was an atheist.
She looked at her client perched on her couch. “Tell me again what’s wrong?”
He didn’t dignify her with a response.
“Really? You don’t want to say anything?”
It didn’t seem to alter his disposition. He closed his eyes to slits and stared at her
Now these were the times she wished she had thought about this if this was the right career for her
Knowing this, would she have not gone into cat psychology? Probably not. Mr. Butters left the couch and jumped onto her lap as if to seal the deal. Purrrrfection!
Being sick is always sucky, especially when it’s your stomach and intestines
Listing there aimlessly, hoping for the internal torment to subside
And yet all you can do is moan and hope for a break in your condition
How many times can you count the bathroom tiles?
Never was he farther away physically from her
Every day he felt that emptiness when he woke up
And no matter how many times he got to call her, it was never enough
Reaching his decision, he booked his flight. Money is great, but being there was priceless
These times she felt like she was being washed out to sea
It caused her to panic and thrash erratically
Diving in, her wife swam out to meet and support her
Emerging from the ocean of troubles she dried her off with her love
Realizing there are times when you are broken inside
Everything just rattles around and you feel the stabbing of the sharp pieces
Putting that back together would be difficult if not impossible
Leaving what would be left is an incomplete you
As some of the parts would be lost or the edges rounded to leave gaps
Covered with tape and superglue. Looking in the mirror you don’t recognize your own soul
Embrace a new chance, a new hope, a new you and let the rubble be recycled
How many times can you do the same thing
And do you get the wanted dopamine hit for each?
Bet it is a series of diminishing returns
It should make you want to do it even less
That would be nice, but no, you crave want more
So you do it again, well, because…
Manipulating the data to make it relax
And at the same time stimulate the viewer to see the answers contained within
So, it should come to no surprise that, at times, the data might be stretched too far
Snapping off the meaning from the numbers
And creating a new thesis from the ether
Giving a new discourse that never even had a whisper
Exist in the original census of the world
Under a gloomy gray sky, she looked at the shattered pieces of her life strewn at her bleeding feet. She stood there dumbfounded. Everything was gone in mere moments! She cried and almost just gave up, but…
Time kept moving.
Tears dried.
The sun crept out from behind the clouds.
She grabbed a broom and began to clean up the mess that had been her life and threw it away. She kept a couple of small pieces to remind herself of the before times. She then made a cup of tea and looked at the horizon.
The phoenix watched and learned.
Given how attached he was to her, how he loved her
Letting her go never entered his mind. He wanted to be with her at all times
Under that notion, he physically stuck himself to her
Eventually, his mommy got the cat away from him, but not after lots of scratches. Love was hard.
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
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Never Short On Words 