"Freestyle" drabbles by Tyarra Ybarrola

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Yellow Bee

Freestyle #6

When I find myself alone with you, I can hear your mind buzzing. I imagine it busily drifting from one blooming idea to the next; deftly examining each leaflet for a grain of inspiration. It glides confidently in a clear pattern, and touches down with intentional precision.

After thorough exploration, the harvest of information is transported to your epicenter. There, the process of refinement is executed; producing the sticky-sweet flow of your consciousness.

I can't help but smile when it dribbles over your lips. I secretly delight in knowing how many leaves were turned over for a single ounce.

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Seed of Madness

Freestyle #5

In a place tucked deep in my brain, there is a seed of madness.
Placed there by hollow thoughts of shame, and a need for constant sadness.

A creation believed to yield vile ends, without grace or eloquence.
No words or scripture to comprehend, its vast array of violence.

Casted there by dirty hands, that labored in the barren soil.
At once rooted firmly in the gritty sand, without a moment of woeful toil.

And what sprouted forth from that vial seed, much to anyone's surprise.
Was a flower who's beauty did exceed - everything that has ever graced my eyes.

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The Storm

Freestyle #4

As my gaze resurfaced into reality, a hurricane flickered to life in the back of my mind. It had been festering for weeks, waiting for the wind to stir it.

I blinked.

The rain started leaking onto my pillow. Softly pattering at first, until the howling storm welled up to its peak and came crashing down in waves of hail and lightning.

There was no refuge prepared for this storm, for there was none that could behold it. The wailing of thunder carried into the room and shook my house from its foundation.

There was nothing left in its wake.

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The Carving

Freestyle #3

She takes up the knife and carves a meaty chunk of flesh from my bone. I smile kindly as she holds it to her mouth and takes small nibbles from the morsal. Bleeding and exhausted, I wait patiently for her to finish her portion.

Yet another one comes right after, and also taking up the knife, carves his own piece from another limb. I nourish him, and cure his frigidness with the heat of my blood. Without a word, he leaves the knife for the next soul requiring some nutrients.

Some say I'm a saint.

This is why I'm holey.

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Pills

Freestyle #1

Someone gave me a bottle of pills today, and told me they are for the pain. I have never seen him around before, and I did not recognize his name.

He must have seen it in my stride, the way I hang my head. Or in my shadowy countenance, or mocking bravado when I entertain my friends.

There was something terrible in me that he saw, that aroused a need to give me these. Unlabeled, and unaccounted for somewhere. Just a small handful and nothing more. What secrets lie in these capsules? Which one of my pains are they for?