the capitalist cabriole
for the dancers who've danced for years while the floor grows weak and trim
split soles
dinky roles
potholes
be bold!
run here, sprint there
don't stop moving. go everywhere
tattered ribbons
rude opinions
schisms
rhythm
Keep dancing.
Prancing.
Turning.
Burning.
Muscles exerting.
About the Creator
crayoncreative
yeah, i know, my digital footprint is astronomical now.
and YES, I absolutely drew those silly vegetable pals.
@redacted_today -- IG
Keep reading
More stories from crayoncreative and writers in Poets and other communities.
Affection and Healing for Yourself
During the night of the last quarter moon, I gathered my ritual supplies. I carefully handled the chunk of black tourmaline that would protect me from your overall negative and narcissistic energy. I carefully walked the house with my stick of selenite in hand, asking the universe to cleanse our working space.
By Alisha Wilkins ✒️🦋🖋️7 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.