joshbcooley
Statements are made upon deaths, rapes and burglaries. My earnings were no ones business.
She sat looking towards the garage, she felt that if she looked hard enough he would walk back out and tell her that what she said would never be enough to soil his ego and of course everything was fine. He wondered if he needed to call the police.
As sure as I took the step I knew I was falling. It was slow. Steady. Paced with the rate of the pulse in y neck. The walker had slipped and it was evident that I was not strong enough on my own.
The coach mused. Steamed and fumed really. He knew he had to bench the McCreely kid but he had to consider the bitch fit his mom would throw.
I had looked and looked. I thought all the classes, forums and lectures would bring me the answer, that I would find some type of an outlet for my frustration. None of them were suitable, I found it only in her.
Though I love writing and spilling myself onto countless pages of self-aggrandizing prose. I could never bear to see my fears settled into print.
MOving closer to her, feeling the wreck inside my body forcing it's way into my throat, my mouth and out into the air. As soon as I surely would've spoken and destroyed my chances, she rest her hand on my thigh and and leaned her head on my shoulder. I was stilled.
There we were. Alone. In a sea of formidable faceless eons. The times would slip past as long as our love was endless and all-consuming.
Never will there be a replacement for yesterday's edition.
The freckles on my arms were growing and growing. I had to accept the fact that though I may not be dying, I was aging and the blotches on my skin were like badges of the years behind me.
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writing since 2010 · 14 entries · 13 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Josh showed up.
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13days written
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the words Josh reaches for
lookingkidconditionssuregrowinglovenastyfightbrothergrownhitinsteadpunchedrefrigeratordislocatedfingers