Prose Practice 2

Another prose practice, I actually kind of like this one. Or at least hate it less than normal.

I am very sorry I have not written much lately. Sometimes the words I have to say get caught up in the back of my head and wait until I’m teetering on the brink of sleep before spewing forth to run wildly through my brain. Burning paths and colours into the whirlpools and tempests of my being; sending spikes of thought and feeling down my body and into the crevices of my legs and fingers where they remain, burning, for hours. Leaving me twisting and sweating through my sheets, too afraid to move, to speak, lest the moment shatter. To afraid to break the fleeting apocalypse of thought and chaos that burns me. The thoughts of you that I keep locked in the doors of my mind burn me, the words that have died silently behind my lips burn me, the image of your eyes - your goddamn, holy, holy eyes burns me. Every night you burn me.

Author's Note

Again, just another practice. I'm rather rusty, and very sorry about the quality.

Reviews

[Guanarito]

It was very good reading. If this is rusty I'd love to see you at your A-game. This was well worth the read and a piece that shouldn't be hated. Rather it should be loved and respected. Your word usage was amazing, a perfect balance, just enough to show sophistication yet not so much it takes away from conveying meaning. Very good. Keep at it my friend.