Spectre

There are so many choices… Some slick and smooth and glossy and prepared to show me the world after just one touch. One or three can bring me fanciful pleasure, if I only give them an arm and a leg and most of my uncommon sense. I am tempted. So tempted…

For hours, which are centuries hiding behind screen glares and keyboard comfort, I roam the realm of electronic chaos… Temptation is not enough. My frugality and I can’t choose.

A gent clad in blue says, “She won’t get too hot on your lap. And if you are a little rough, she will be able to take it. She’s made of sturdy stuff.”

I am rough. I like sturdy. But she is a tad too steep.

My Piano Man reads the struggle in my face, and reminds me, “Frugality is often steeper, in the long run.” His sage tongue-kisses my qualms, and I start tilting towards temptation…

In the long run, I’m enthralled by her name—Spectre: “a visible incorporeal spirit, specially one of a terrifying nature; ghost; phantom; apparition… some object or source of terror or dread.”

to dance with dark words,
the new Spectre has become
my charming laptop

.
the wee notes…
– I had all sorts of fun writing this haibun—it marks the culmination of my computer shopping, and every word of it is true. Also, it felt nice to write something heartwarmingly creepy… especially after scaring one or three of you half to death with “We’ll Always Have Smoke Signals”.
– Linked to Sanaa’s Prompt Nights—Obsession continually fills or troubles the mind… (by the way, for a short while I wondered if adding this to an obsession poetry challenge would be pushing it a tad much… Then I remembered that most of us are quite obsessed with our electronics *and as always, by “we” I mean “me”). Also linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform.
– And, just so you know, although it was only about a week… I freaking missed you!

gothic-womanvia
(yes, the spirit of my laptop looks rather lethal in a corset *cough*)

Storm the Dark with Me

“It’s time to write about the dead and undead,” Björn tells us. Not “the cuteness of trick or treat, but the real fear that hides beneath your bed. Bring out the beasts at night and make it hard for me to sleep.” Often, fear is that which keeps us awake… because we want it so damn much.

“Storm the Dark with Me”

I never bite a throat
that invites not my ripping
teeth. I’ve been waiting,

but hope is leaving me…

She will never want
her warmth on my tongue,
my eyes in her heart.

Then I see my desires
curve the red of her lips
for me, asking for touch
that quivers my bones.

“Storm the dark
with me,” she says, fingers tight
around my need.

I follow her, teeth ready
to feel her, throat exposed
to receive anything…

she is willing to give.
.

a wee note…
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Creatures of the Night

storm-the-darkpoem bit created from Edgar Allan Poe and Sigmund Freud magnetic poetry kits
charm clip crafted by Eliora