Into the couch of your grave I fly,
never questioning why to your eye.
I watch you die.
Day by day
machine play
in never-lounge cushions.
Cards against humanity.
A symbol-grinding ending to the groove of who we were.
Echoes of flies
fill time’s windows.
A volume of buzzing collides
with words set fire.
You are almost gone,
like syllables stoked to ash.
Brenda Warren 2016
Visit the Sunday Whirl
Adventures in Poetry and Writing
brenda warren
Reclaiming my inner badass at 50
All students need a safe and caring school environment
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poetry by nicolas ryan brown.
Writing for Wholeness
Waiting on Words
A Feminist Literary Collective (& outlaw poets swearing)
"What a strange bundle of consistent inconsistencies we all are." Mary Ronan
The weather and the light are just different out here...and sometimes you have to find the words for things.
My poetry is my religion.
Sunshine on Razor Wire: perspectives from "inside"
Be inspired...Be creative...Be peace...Be
a weekly flash fiction prompt inspired by google maps
Observations from the loose nut behind the wheel.
spiritual enlightenment and self improvement
undercaws 
‘A symbol-grinding ending to the groove of who we were’ – Wow! I love the way you used the prompt words throughout this excellent piece.
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That tantalizing sound of others winning (even small returns) prevents them from giving up. How easy it is to picture the scene. Beautiful writing Brenda.
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This one moves on a very deep level. Your use of the words telling, yet very evocative. Thanks Brenda,
Elizabeth
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I feel like I’m in Vegas. You used “grinding” and “groove” so well.
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within all the christmas cheer, an honest poem. thanks
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Each word and sound brilliantly placed – but the last verse really left an impression – thank you by the way for all your whirl words.. hope you have a peaceful holiday season
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