My mighty pen…

I’ve written about things I do not know of;

Heartbreak, love lost

Despair, murder

Joy

Love.

I wrote about them so well

I could have known them

Had I put the pen down long enough to

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The Visiting Voice

I found a voice today; a voice to help narrate the worlds I want to create, the lives I want to build and break and a voice I need to move past the island I’ve been stranded on for the past, I don’t know how long.

Not my own, no; I don’t trust my own voice to convey the kinds of emotions these future souls need to inherit. My own voice doesn’t fit; it doesn’t have the range, there’s a vacant lilt to it that does nothing for fertile earth.

This voice sounds like it used to belong to another, much wiser, considerate and cautious creature with a secret. That’s what it is, it sounds like every sentence is poised for attacked, coiled and at the ready for a lethal strike just waiting to happen, and only it knows when.

The moments I have with this new voice will be fleeting, that I know of. It’ll come, it’ll give willingly and take with it whatever it desires and it’ll go. To whom it’ll appear to next, I don’t know, but I will treat it kindly, respect it dutifully and use it for as long as it is willing to be used.

Amen

Sex could be a prayer;

You’re on your knees

The lord’s name a whisper between your lips

Your bedroom a place of worship

Your eyes closed

Your heart aflutter

Your devotion piqued

Your hands sweaty

Your throat raw

The end a rapt declaration

Your faith satisfied

But you’re still looking for more

That’s a bloody good prayer.