Introverts: an Extrovert’s Guide

Lizzi explains introverts to extroverts, or, vice versa, delightfully.

Considerings

How many introverts does it take to satisfy an extrovert?

I suspect the answer is the same as to that riddle about angels dancing on the tip of a pin – as many as can see the point! We get a reputation for being somewhere on the hungry side of insatiable when it comes to having people in our lives, and here’s the thing – in some ways we’re not particularly picky. People can be fairly shitty, but at the end, they’re better than no company at all.

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Inhumed – Aurora Phoenix

Aurora Phoenix, ambushed by an OCD tome-warp.

Blood Into Ink

that t there

yep, I crossed it

those i’s

all duly dotted

sticky notes paper my desk

reminders scrawled

in inks of many colors

attention grabbing hues

I list like a realtor of to-dos

my calendar chimes

who what where and when.

I have a head for details

the memory of an elephant

and keep going and going and going

Energizer bunny

in gym shoes with my skirt

the better to keep on runnin.’

more competent than most

I know what I know

suffer few fools

speak my mind with authority

until my OCD

does a dirty tango

with principal-office fear

I was never called

and I am wearing ill-fitting plaid

eyes downcast, shuffling

catapulted through decades

to Catholic school girl

shame

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Raven

Christine Ray takes flight on black wings.

Brave & Reckless

It starts as tightness
tingling
across bare shoulder blades
becomes an itch
I can’t quite reach
stretch my spine sinuous
slow
vertebrae by vertebrae
long for a shot of whiskey
or three
liquid gold disinhibition I can blame
for the reckless choice
I am about to make
I finally let go
tightly coiled control
gasp with relief
as I finally unleash the darkness
onyx feathers rip
sharp and true through the flesh of my back
talons shoot from fingertips
toes
bones burned hollow
by demon fire dwelling in my belly
exquisite pain of rebirth
brings me briefly to my knees
I arise something new
wipe the blood from my mouth
spread fledgling wings
and with the lift of the north wind
I claim the night sky
mine

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

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For Everything and Nothing

Stephanie Bennett-Henry – A letter to a lost love, still loved.

Stephanie Bennett-Henry

The world is far too beautiful for the ugliness that rapes my thoughts. For the remembering I can’t stop until I turn it into a chaos I want to forget, but never can. For the silence stripping me raw and so loud, I try to cover my ears, but my heart jumps out with a refusal I can’t ignore. For the indifference like a slow death, constantly cutting into me with the roughest edges I have ever known. For all I tell myself to answer the uncertainty so I can find closure. I search for it at night, sleepwalk wide awake where I once met you in the sweetest dreams under the most peaceful sleep. For being lost and found to being lost again where numbness takes over leaving me unable to feel, but I still see the slow motion picture show playing in my mind every minute. For the…

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Excerpt from the Sudden Denouement Anthology Volume I: Surface Dweller/1Wise-Woman

A taste of the Anthology from 1Wise Woman

A taste of the Anthology from 1Wise Woman

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SOMEBODY, MAYBE YOU

Hasty – The prison of memory

HASTYWORDS

You find yourself free of a toxic relationship.  But how free?  Don’t let the memories keep you tangled in the past.  Find a way to unravel them and use them to propel yourself into a future free of cobwebs.

Trying like mad to untangle
The last torturous threads
Of our fucked up history
Knotted webs of confusion
Where somebody, maybe you
Said something to wound
Did something to damage
Wrote something to harm
Where somebody, maybe you
Wove fiction into reality
Spun lies into beautiful truths
Stored gaslight in your finger tips
While somebody, maybe you
Preached love and positivity
Yet spit disdain through teeth
Covered by a deceiving smile
Somebody, maybe you
Thought I was a piece of shit
Thought I was a waste of time
Thought I was a dead end
Somebody, maybe you
Is snared and caught
Not a spider, nor a monster
Just a person
Imprisoned…

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The Body Politic

Christine Ray – Negotiation with estranged parts

Brave & Reckless

there is an unknown thief

black-clad

masked vigilante

stealing into my nights

robbing me

of things

I once took

for granted

hand

leg

foot

now unpredictable strangers

i struggle to learn

their new language

I must

broker truces

new alliances

keep this country

called body

running smoothly

until underlying

political tensions identified

conflicts resolved

or

if necessary

new borders negotiated

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

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Across the Street- Georgia Park

From Georgia Park – An avoidance of invitation

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Is it my tendrils of smoke, the scent of my shampoo

or my dog’s panting that rises up to the third floor apartment

of the brick building across the street

 

where you poke your head out of that window

to ask me if id like something to eat,

something specific, always;

pizza, a meatball sub,

or something else entirely

as when you inquire if im dirty

and would like the bath with bubbles

you’re already drawing,

would my dog like to come with me?

 

and I know it’s not just me.

that alleyway’s past was marked

by heavy foot traffic

before your inquiries,

and it’s not just women;

a fact that comforts me.

 

You are well taken care of

attired in bright sweaters,

warm and clean.  And gracious

enough to always offer something

i catch you alone sometimes,

bent forward and whispering

 

It’s clear that you…

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Secrets Fucked Inside

Stephanie Bennett-Henry – Rejection leaves deep wounds.

Stephanie Bennett-Henry

Eat.

Just fucking eat.

That’s what they say

That’s what they all say

Just get some fucking sleep

Sleep… great idea….

if only that idea agreed with me

but it never does.

The silence…

It’s too loud to let me sleep.

The walking away,

the giving up..

I can’t chew on that.

I can’t swallow rejection

and expect it to fill me

with anything other than

the taste of my own

self loathing.

The breaking,

it doesn’t taste good.

It splits my taste buds,

strips me raw

of everything I thought I knew

and I’m empty

with the reality of knowing

I wasn’t worth staying whole.

I was only the time

of pieces fucked empty

and that

is how I will stay.

Because the silence

just inside the emptiness

of what was

fills me with just enough hope

that maybe

you’ll realize

I was worth a little bit more.

But…

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“You might have slowed her down, but trust me when I say you could never, ever stop her.”

That Little Light From Your Lampshade offers a story of shedding light on a remembered wrong.

That little light from your lampshade

The following tale isn’t mine. I put some words to paper, to help someone put to words the experience, but this isn’t something I’ve had to experience myself. It is, however, the kind of story I’ve heard to many times, and every time I hear it I just want to rage, rampage, raise hell and destroy something. Or, more specifically, a someone, as these stories always have a someone who deserves to get run over.

But alas! Running people over is illegal (for now), so all I can do to help out is listen, and help put some of my friends feelings into something she can share. Because she lives with the hope that by sharing this moment, maybe somebody else will find it and pull something out of it, however small. That’s what I can do, what all of use can do. We can be there shoulder to cry…

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