Free Writing

As of late I haven't written a damn thing. Not a single scene, not a single sentence, not a single word. Either I have one huge clog in the brain (which with luck could lead to an aneurism) or the idea well has become completely bone dry. Whichever it is, I might as well try to free-write again. The usual disclaimer that whatever I write past the dashes won't necessarily make sense.

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"Oh great, that song's stuck in my head again. Someone get the crowbar and yank it out of me, please."

"Yank what out?"

"My brain, duh! So you can rinse it with disinfectant and hopefully clean out the filth."

"..."

"What?"

"You'd have to have a brain first for me to yank it out. And even if you did, I'd need a microscope and tweezers."


Pathetic. Retarted. Insanely delicious. Was there a point to all this in the first place? Did you really need to gather the sentient swandive to glow and reach for the outer limits of the panoramic abyss? Genius comes but once in a lifetime, how much for your life then? Swung swum, ring rung, monkey see monkey do, dome Domex.


Stop being such a blithering idiot and HELP ME!


Magparamdam ka naman diyan. Unless you're dead. In which case "DO NOT WANT!"


Oh! Gravity, why can't we seem to keep it together?


I must cease and decist with Love. Hindi ako martyr, TANGA lang ako. Hindi ako bakla, babae akohhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!


Polup, mefenamic acid, ibuprofin, paracetamol biogesic. Anagestic, congestant, bola bola. Haven't we gone through all this before? No, not deja vu, or anything of that sort. Perhaps I'm merely on a continuous loop? Doomed to repeat things over and over, although there's a bug in the system and it makes it so that whatever I spew out is suspiciously different but at the same time the same thing. The rivets int he threshold of the mountain holds the key to the glory of the universe. Spit it out child, we haven't all eon! Algorithms and trigonometry is the poetry of the just sides and just dessert.


Gluten, gratin, grated cheese and custard, picnics and schtrudels and schnizels with noodles. Golden geese wtih slivers and monumental effegies. Britain and broken and bitten by kites, slashed and tattered with not even a fight.


They spoke nary a word as they sat across each other. Twin gems of dark obsidian that shone with a frightening sparkle met two orbs of polished metal that failed to hide the fear lingering in its edges. Magda smiled coyly before she reached out and cut her hand off. The severed limb flew in the air past the other woman, before suddenly twisting in direction. Her fingers stretched out and grabbed a fistful of faded-rust-colored hair and pushed her victim towards her waiting mouth. Her lips closed over objecting cries, silencing the terror and resistance that stubbornly clung to her prey's mind.

Her tongue forced its way past the entrance in search of its counterpart. And once she found it, the other woman ceased struggling.

The victim fell forward, limp as a ragdoll, with only Magda's torso keeping her head from slamming onto the table.

A feral grin, borne from hunger and lust, spread across her lips. Her eyes glittered as they roved appraisingly over her new toy.

"Good girl," Magda crooned, her severed hand snaking down from the woman's hair to the cleft of her breasts. Her ears detected a soft moan, and the apples of her cheeks blossomed red.