Waltzing to the records repeat insanity encroaching with each skip of the needle….

A wilted flower nesting in a pot with decay from the mildew floor, petals falling swiftly brushed away out of sight

Detertiated rooms inside the heart, God knocking on one Satan on the other. Whom would she give the pleasure of their company. One had a key, the other a bottle. Like a newborn nursing baby the bottle was all she could see. Give, give, give it to me

Fallen out of the sky line in the dark of the night. A phenomenon of sorts no one could make out what took place. They could make out a huge divet in the cavernous ground but no sign of life 

Quicksand in her jungles ruins there was no escape for her body was sinking in the vastness of grit strangled in its grip 
   

A spiral staircase steep it lacking rails to help in her incline. Haze filled eyes. Tripping, falling, sliding to the cement. Blood spilled body below. Another outlined silhouette, the crime scene investigators waiting on the autopsy. They had just been in wait for this show for her they knew all to well

Desperation was her navigation course. Compass had no bearings. North, South, East, or West she did not care. Just proceeded to walk in her alcoholic stare. Did anybody care

Wet slippery slant gaunt with binging, no hinge could tighten her down. One screw too many missing, singing happy in her dismay. She was lost, she had long checked out. The spout filled with its poison was her new best friend. They would die hand in hand. Bodies too decomposed to tell the story 

Praise God she is no longer transfixed in this world dimension God threw the rock on her and helped her hand to heaven 

Word Prompt: descend

  

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Published by

Lisa Ralph, Cries from an unkempt garden

I write to tell my story of how I overcame self affliction, and great despair in this life. For I write to share the death to self that took place. That I may Glorify God in all I do. May my writings be a refelction of freedom, for I am no longer in captivity of self. May they be warm, and inviting. For I write because God has given me words that drip from my mouth to be seen.

4 thoughts on “Waltzing to the records repeat insanity encroaching with each skip of the needle….”

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