How do we end this?
Pretty? Dirty? Tied up? Undone?
What’s your poison, partner?
Mine’s bare hands, open hearts, and unbroken eye contact.
Can’t handle that?
Fine. Your call.
Texting?
You baby. What are you afraid of?
Think the featherweight’s going to put you on the mat with two hands tied behind her back and no word count limit?
You’re right.
You’re going to get your ass handed to you.
Alright, fine we’ll keep it fair.
Each fighter gets to use their preferred method of assault.
It’ll be Texting vs. Genuine Human Connection.
Passive aggressive?
I am not.
Fine, maybe I am. But that’s my weapon of choice.
You chose shade and cowardice.
So… here we are.
Runners to your mark.
Hold up. Are we running or fighting?
Fighting, right?
To the death!
No … to the pain?
Yesssss. To the pain.
Ready.
Aim.
Fuck, I don’t want to do this.
I really really don’t want to do this.
Shit, you’re texting already.
YOLO.
IIWII.
IDK.
DYK?
IYKYK.
FFS.
WTF are we doing?
DYKILY?
Welp! I’m a brilliant monster who eats your words and spits on your music and can’t stop being a miracle. Oh yeah, baby, I’m a miracle and you’re better for knowing me, so cut the shit and get back to falling. That’s it. All the way to the bottom. And when you get there don’t expect a leg up. I’ll be gone and you’ll be wounded but that’s on you. You threw down the gauntlet. You took up the olive branch I dangled in front of your face. And that second one I smacked across your ass.
Was it worth it?
Damn right it was.
Come on.
What are we doing?
We’re dancing, you beautiful miracle!
A tango of apocalyptic proportions.
Gloves off, partner.
Back straight.
Heart open.
Eyes on me.
Oh, no no no.
You follow my lead.
Welcome back to Stock Fiction, the everything plus the kitchen sink newsletter publication inspired by stock photography. Today’s piece of poetic smack talk was a much-needed palate cleanse for yours truly. A little bit of heart housekeeping. A chance to clear the cobwebs. They’ve been heavy lately. The cobwebs.
And the heart.
If you dug the swings of today’s free-style prose poetry, you might enjoy a pas de deux with the first installment of what I hope will be a recurring series.
So, far the self-hosted open mic forum has proved an effective weapon against writer malaise, at least for this little dancing duck.
Okay.
Mic’s open, friends. 🎤
How’s your heart?
What’s your weapon of choice in a fight “to the pain”?
Who leads when you dance with your partner? Be honest.
Who’s excited about Thursday’s post?
Here’s a little teaser. If this image doesn’t make your neck tingle with anticipation, you may have missed the introduction.
Big warm thanks to my newest FOREVER paid subscriber,
. Amy is a generous teacher and a wildly gifted fiction writer. Her Substack, offers a compelling glimpse into the very near future and a high-resolution vision for humanity’s place in it. Highly recommend! 💜Cheers, my beautiful miracles.
*Home Raker* is about to be real?! Omgomgomgomg!
This reminds me of the “poetry slams” I used to go to when I was younger. I can imagine how it might sound when recited.