Creative Nonfiction

Warning: Barely on theme. There’s almost no timeline to this, that's just about the only part of this that is even partially on theme. If there’s something to break down or interesting implications or interpretation it’ll be really nice to see...

This body isn’t little anymore, the blanket-stitch isn’t enough.

All the pretty things need straight stitches. 

What’s the point in polyester? 

Walmart sells lemons, learn the backstitch, forget the feed-dogs trust the body’s hands.

Forget the limits, waiting for perfect things is the same as giving up.

Having only happens once the work is done, slave away, and hands become dear.

The master doesn’t exist, there’s only want, will, and responsibility.

But nothing done here has utility.

Six years old never drowned, forgot how to swim till twentyone, what about Japan instead?

Why be here?

Bleeding isn’t fun.

Twenty dollar Ill-fit dress, be happy now, it’s nothing much.

Such pretty things for nothing at all, why be so ungrateful. Insolence is a twenty dollar word, such a brat is better, really now, works been hard where is dinner?

Mom works too, but that was hardly the equation.

Fungal breath, blue face, no albuterol, make haste.

If wanting help please call sooner, need it or why bother?

Only if in need, just a wallet. Not a good one. Dollar general isn’t fancy, soap is just as necessary.

Breathing is a given, why should it cost so much? A ride or just to keep in touch.

Sister needs to keep face, quit being honest.

Mom can’t say a thing, ain’t it wild?

Fucking monster, seeing the rot, faulty-molding tater tot.

Don’t forget to hide the garbage! Never put it back.

Little sister don’t talk back, live with hypocrisy or live with attacks. 

As far as treatment gossip reflects, simply wonder at little sister’s disinterest.

Takes the car won’t look back, just asking for an asthma attack.

If there’s an issue wonder why, cause really where isn’t the surprise?

Missing teeth never white, shame what a waste. What is there to afford?

Time, will, energy, judgment in mixed company. 

Never forget nothing is free, except maybe pain. Don’t say depressing things.

Get scared, forget to brush, what’s the point? Trouble is always hush-hush.

What a wonderful thought to want anything? If only greed hadn’t made it all so sour. 

Wanting things that won’t ever be, just to be good company.

One week in four nothing more, one in five? Close enough, forget the math neglect boundaries. It shouldn’t matter. Go on the pill.

Why be here?

Cruises aren’t Carnivals.

Please have a drink? Have to one day. Never said it. Never been drunk where visible. Don’t remember only buzzing.

Buzzed, buzz, buzzing, why hate bees? Wasps, other things?

Buzzed, Buzz, Buzzing, never cut aunty’s hair again. 

Never talk either, quit killing mom.

Better anyway, can’t touch death. Can’t say a thing, quit trauma dumping, Sandy’s still a bitch.

Wish the boots were quicker done, doesn’t count, still a self-starter.

Not to say it’s ever good to simply go without direction.

Never gonna give any, just the same. What are boundaries anyway?

Crossed expectations, don’t make a scene, always make one, be surprised with some- by some skin.

Don’t be lonely, never understand a little bit of what’s been said.

Be an alien, or be an idiot, confusion is acceptable then.

Don’t forget every single little thing is real, except what’s knowable inside, that’s fantasy.

Shouldn’t it be known already? If sexuality is interest can’t it be said plainly? 

What are boundaries again? Ten years of not listening should make it clearer.

Why say a thing if it hurts to know? Mom doesn’t want at all, so it must be desirability!

Yeah, there’s certainly something to share after that.

Self-Esteem is one thing, damned and low, but does it really help to blame that for everything?

There are days when a pin prick is the only pleasure left in this world, but still, the only worry is sadness when in honesty.

Why be sad when life gets to be slow? 

Why be happy when life goes slow?

Why be lonely when no one’s here really?

Why not germany?

Write for hours every day, thousand for thousand doesn’t pay, make a point, don't use the cliche, and the grammar goes bad in a day.

Trouble at all, it’s just improper. Get with the program, don’t die a pauper.

Grade-four erotica is certainly worth reading. At least until AI makes the point moot.

Still stuck with non-thought reasons, fix the bra with a careful hand.

All things take skill, but most take the eye, what about when sight dares to die?

Love still stays on second hand, slow and steady, no race to run.

A dozen things in kitten cardstock, just to keep the traced-out shapes.

Darts in denim, fake voices read, impolite notions keep tempo.

Does it count without a price, does it matter with glazed eyes a-skimming? 

Murmuring mess, memory parade how can it be made to purpose? Where's the plot in 100 words, show don’t tell in this synopsis.

Fuck grammar if the story doesn’t matter.

Tell a story without that silly thing called- anything to go on.

Stretch pants fit well, pull on all the same. No worry about the falling off or chafing. Like the kids in Bangladesh are what’s defended when the clothes are plastic never to be mended.

What’s a backstitch other than a waste when described to the ignorant?

What’s a Carnosaur other than a T-rex with extra steps?

Disbelieve that a mouse is a lizard? Learn some respect. Like the line on what’s true is on things like that.

Silly creatures claw for the notion, don’t change a thing as far as sense.

Look at that ninehundred plus. 

What a wordsmith, still needs a shower.

Too many bodies, can’t breathe, must have a bigger reason. Raised wrong, like the body can’t hear cause it can’t respond. Wanted, loved, got to choose, broken now cause of mom’s conviction.

Too many bodies, can’t breathe, hon it’s just anxiety.

Drink some soda, not the best, bubbles help when there’s a what next?

Nothing is okay, let’s have a laugh, guess why later there’s no reason to play?

Change for a world proclaimed to want nothing in particular.

Brag about a grief not held for long, the dead on bad terms for such an ego’s protection. Get told again that something broke the mind.

Get told again that all is fine.

Get praised again for a skill of little worth, the nothing done for pretty things.

Pulled back alone again to try and make the story straight, told again and again nothing counts without intention, still it's easy to forget without self-reflection.

Learn to say what is meant and live with one’s own cruelty, so at the very least intention can be blamed instead of foot in mouth.

Can’t blame intention if half of what’s said is on instinct.

Tomboy’s don’t find love, what about the future, people keep staring at this body too developed for eleven. Why be opinionated? Isn’t it unfair to notice what people do?

Then everythings switched, cause of some post on facebook. 

What is a stretch stitch by hand called?

Doesn’t matter the pedal-pads aren’t even cut out. Too careful now, barely let the body bend, make it stretch like the body never did before.

Straighter back than ever was then, not for anything as small as propriety. 

Coffee sits in hair and skin, like everything a cure all in some respect.

Three-eyed monster growing in tea, same as for the facial over weeks black and gray.

On the first blush things get better, but the mind still whirs around.

The words just weren’t there to describe what had been found.

If it could be said as clear as day for the forgetful? It wasn’t without the bullies that life did become fretful.

It was in clawing for a reason bigger than the people bound in othered pride, it was for the distance built by an ignorance the mind before could not possess.

A child asks to make sense of biology, mom speaks about bodies, eggs, and cesarean section. Little girls never need to be ignorant, why would it make sense to sell romance without paying the rent? 

And still later there’s surprise stark and honest, when the center of sex isn’t just if it's wanted. 

What about the other options? 

Well if thought of for a little, desirability doesn’t bode well in the world long since made.

Here’s a spider. Tissue role for scale.

Ten years filled with tall tales no hope to explain, all so confusing to any other brain. Worse still, too much gotta be worried, little girls don’t need thoughts beyond flirting.

Nothing to believe left inside with just extremes, but is it really fair, when a little girl needs experience imperative to speak?

Ain’t this all cause the songs between words never said were just grating?

Not like Red River didn’t give some entertaining, nothing better than hoping Kale lost a testical to Ramses.

Let’s sew some pants. Tug the rise, make snug, replace a zipper.

Add something, change it all. Go by hand, get lost.

Wonder if god is actually trapped in opinion, like that wouldn’t be anticlimactic. Watching for that easy agreement unquestioned world, notions ignorantly fought. 

Like the actions of men have anything to do with god? Name or not in vain.

Grafted apples branded lovely little things, listen to nonsense, with sardines on top. Bred for sweetness as much as cider, cranberry cheese with pine nuts, with a side order of dread.

The worst thought in the world is the want not to waste time.

Barf it up, take a pink, shower well, don’t sleep a wink. Wait a month, peanut oil is allowed. Not a doctor in sight, what an admission, little to be done when allergies are understood.

Go back to writing like life ain’t a fool’s bargain sometimes.

Girl let go.

Inching up what should the story be about instead, like that’s an answer worth giving. What could make that connection? Love without the words, so that it isn’t trapped in mutual ignorance. So that this very human experience isn’t lost in blind assumption. 

One hundred dolls, a hundred a pop with inflation.

Could finish for sale, but what about the edit?

How long before even those thoughts go sour? A mad woman replaces topstitches. All things are made beautiful by the handiwork. 

There’s a waistband used to reused again, easy enough if need be, and still everything is work.

Maybe it would be worth it to knit. 

To sell the notion that its all fake, so that the folks that say the labor ain’t worth it can gag on E.T.’s- 

Nice thoughts, Finally.

Breathe the glory, tell a story about connection. Then get lost in neglected youth, in rollerblades brand new never bought, on ego trips as out there as a honey pot.

On that life sister lived while the world round as is would rot.

Little stupid promises while nothing changed, on the shame of acceptance. On the rage, one or two ill-fit things, and the feeling of betrayal when every meeting day becomes some charity case.

Can’t burn bridges to nowhere that’d be unfair.

Kill the thought need to sleep.

Dance on the clock just to share life when all else feels weak. Finish things to kind voices late at night. Learn to love the tales that hurt to hear at first, forgive the ignorance and cut it out.

Get lost staying in one place, hold onto things like beauty and race, get told again.

It’s fine to be a bastard born and what not, but what about legitimacy?

What about it? Did it change a thing between any two known?

Is it a notion baring out in any place?

Get told again that nothing matches, get told a again that memory just isn’t common practice.

In truth the experience is verified, but it doesn’t change that the witness still needs explaining to.

Mindless on repeat for a life bound up in ego, told to think again and again for mindset so common there is no option to be ignorant.

Can’t tell Jesus from Moses, but remembers the curse of Ham. Get told some nonsense wrapped up in care about the rights of a man. 

The vail is pride beyond clean hair in daylight, easy enough to understand girls are property right? Get told again that there’s not a lick of dissonance, so glad that love is so fair an excuse in the states.

Dance on the clock and scream, get told one day that men aren’t just a dream.

Suppose its experience imperative.

Can’t get anywhere if tamness is necessary, can’t get anywhere if needs can’t be met.

Still through all this mom made the best defense.

Matters of want are a common projection, girls of twelve don’t need to feel like that. Doesn’t change the first thought one bit, but hey at least it all ends up disregarded.

Is it alright that the baby matters more than all that?

February 22, 2023 05:00

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Kevin Marlow
04:49 Apr 14, 2023

I feel your style inspired that prompt, what a jagged journey.


Kathleen `Woods
22:23 Apr 14, 2023

Thanks for reading my disordered slam poetry! :) I'll agree its jagged, but memories are with how they connect naturally in my head. Whatcha want me to read through? I'd like to run on suggestions.


Kevin Marlow
04:40 Apr 15, 2023

I would like to swap emails. Send me yours to kevina79@hotmail.com I only send out a few emails a month with stories and updates on my writing and publishing journey. I would like your insights.


Kathleen `Woods
02:54 Apr 16, 2023

Alright, that should be a nice thing to see in my inbox. I'll try to stay relevant.


Kevin Marlow
03:20 Apr 16, 2023



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