WRITING PROMPT - Expect edits. Lots of them.

LAST UPDATE: 2/9/2010
HEY: I realized if you don't have a deviantart account, you won't be able to view some of these. A number of them have mature warnings, which are blocked from non-users.

A 31 step writing prompt. Links are to the completed prose/poetry/bullshit on my deviantart. Completion is a lie. The gist of it: two original characters. One is a little more wise to the world, the other is learning the hard way. Some pieces share the same title as their prompt, others do not. This type of mini flash-fiction moment was inspired by a close friend of mine. He's a very talented writer and I want to attempt to do his methods justice in my own musings. Let's hope for the best.

01. letter.
02. sticks and stones
03. birthday
04. immortal
05. circus
06. abandoned (1/14/2010)
07. nosebleed
08. father (1/13/2010)
09. sunrise (1/11/2010)
10. distraction
11. habit (2/9/2010)
12. fuck (1/12/2010)
13. love (1/12/2010)
14. waste
15. skinny (1/19/2010)
16. eyes
17. white noise
18. impulse (1/13/2010)
19. addiction
20. desecrate (1/14/2010)
21. death (1/17/2010)
22. low
23. heartbeat
24. first kiss (1/12/2010)
25. tomorrow
26. sweet (1/18/2010)
27. fog (or mist)
28. can't
29. village
30. time
31. forget

I don't really know where to begin.
This living in sin is heavy on a heart
that can't possibly bear the weight

of counter-clauses and
(you know this line)
countless figure eights.

Maybe if I repeat myself
it'll be more than just letters.

But who am I to judge?

fishie

There's this feeling I get when you're falling asleep,
your body slowly giving more of its weight to my shoulder.
Some distant, ancient part of me
that has broken
begins to mend again.

Something about you feels right.
I have never found it
anywhere else,
and I hope to find it again.

Do you know
that I have compared
every fish I've met in the ocean
to the way you made me feel?

I miss you.

prose will bend you over a desk and fuck the shit out of you

I take my time jumping to the thickest parts of the ice, because if I don't then I'll fall right through and drown. The only problem is that there are only two chunks thick enough to stand on, but they're on opposite sides of the goddamn lake. I don't think I can jump that far. And where the hell did I leave my coat?

I wanted to hug you so bad. I don't think I can jump that far.

cervical displacement? (edits)

I am alone today
and it hurts.
Being alone

is not [like] a slow and crooked smile
as I had once observed
in a moment of clarity.
My stomach is telling me
that it fears cervical displacement
and nine hundred and thirty two baby chickens agree.
She says they're happy.
I hope she's right.
At least they're not alone.
Being alone

is not [like] a slow and crooked smile
as I had once observed
in a moment of clarity.
Aren't you supposed
to write about the things
that bother you?
This bothers me.

Receiver

"Do you feel that?"
she asked the hair behind
his ear with
her breath.

"Feel what?"
the other end
of the receiver
crackled in response.

"Distance,"
her tongue answered,
sliding
over cartilage to take
the lobe
between her teeth.

"I don't know what you mean,"
the receiver said,
inflecting its crackle like
its statement was more
of a question than any
statement could be.

I hate you.

You should have left me,
broken and undercover.
Maybe I could have saved this,
restored a martyred lover.

Instead you came back crying
for a shoulder and a kiss.
You goddamn fool I loved you
before you walked away like this.

Now I break before the dawn
under the weight of words so grey,
and I'll pull on my plastic smile
that lies so easily to your face.

For when I curl up next to you,
burying my face upon your chest,
and fall asleep to door number three-
which option- Not the best.

Now I know reality
and the truth that it foretells.
You should have walked away that day
and left me to my hells.

Purgatory, a quiet hearth,
and Hell a sauna steamed.
Because having all of you,
yet none of this,
is a nightmare, not a dream.