Time Has Meaning


Around the time I begin this draft, I’d be bout ready to go to work. I’d have my face and hair done and as I’d close my laptop, I’d say to my kids or my pets, “I hate this time of day.” I’d have panicky feelings about leaving. Then I’d have panicky feelings about driving. Then I’d get there and the panic would stop, cause focused.
Today is different because my hair is in one of those ponytails where only the part up to the band has been brushed smooth. I wear my Pusheen tee and sweats, no makeup.
Moo turned to me a few minutes ago and asked, “Are you happy you don’t hafta hate this time of day now?”
“Yes. Am happy, thanks.”
*eats pickle*

I plan to be pickle-eatin, tee-shirt wearin for several weeks, and then I’ll see what’s out there to focus on. I gave my two-week’s…

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Daily Prompt: Disastrous


Everything seemed so relaxed and everyone was having a good time

and then you walked in with so much anger and hate.

That even a hello wasn’t good enough for you as if you didn’t want anyone to notice you

and so your bad energy damaged the vibe of such a good day.

As you threw a fit and even after you walked away we just couldn’t get over how you reacted and how we couldn’t stop thinking and talking about it.

You came in with no focus but to turn our day upside down and to just let out your anger as if we insulted you.

Sometimes little life moments can feel like a big storm and knock you back a couple of steps.

Written By: Deirdre Stokes


Daily Prompt: Disastrous

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Human Shell

Tammy Mezera


She was my safest place to meet myself and her

in the dimness we pulled up the sheet and lie beneath.

Sacred rituals to incite confession and be forgiven, healed

what hard autonomy broke within us,

what dependencies had crucified trust.


Am I really a snail after all

if I can’t leave that shell?


The fear so deep that I might never hear again

spoken echoes of the heart

as close as skin and lips.


Fears of drowning in pretense or silence

to be drawn by these tides back out to sea

where air and water are enemies.


When can love never say, ‘I love you’?

It’s too kind and gentle not to be heard

even as a widow of romance.


So strange and cruel these depths we build

stair by stair to consciousness

to now fall on concrete slabs.


Then I thought…

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Eyes + Words

Written by Jacob Ibrag

‘I’m not going that way.’ Abandoned interstate.

He picks up the nearest rock and stares at it, ‘black cat crossed

that path. We need to go back.’ What in the, ‘hell are you talking about?

The maze is just a couple of days away. Not going to ask you again kid, you

coming?’ About face, ‘the road is foreign and sequestered within itself. Watch

your words, avoid buying into your thoughts. You’ll get where you need to

be. Drive your teeth upon this rock, you’ll get there eventually.’

Artist Unknown

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