Fiction Writing: The Sentence

Writing sentences in my fiction writing class. Tell me what you think! I welcome comments, criticism, and advise. =)

Pulsating bones became suffocated in their sockets,eventually cracking the flesh, causing the light to leave his body, as his consciousness oozed peacefully through his pores, exposing his soul to a realm of timeless boarders.

Update (?) : Standing tall without legs, his pulsating bones became suffocated in their sockets, cracked the flesh, and made the light leave his body.
His consciousness oozed peacefully through his pores, exposing his soul to a realm of timeless boarders on the day he was supposed to die.

The Emotional, Humanistic Evolution: Technology & Grieving

The thing about time is that it appears to always be slipping through our mortal hands, as we are constantly chasing after it, always high speed ahead. With speaking about how technology has shaped and molded our society, it also appears that we are constantly clinging on the new trends of the newest high-tech device, whether it be the next generation Apple product or items of such nature.

Our human nature of emotions seem to be adapting to such changes as well. In the same way that with time all things, histories, cultures, societies change, they way we express our human emotions might be changing as well.

It appears evident now that a younger generation, a generation who only knows what is like to own a cell phone and seem to have thumbs built for immense texting, socializes in our society differently than we have the past. Yes, we know that time changes all, but who would have thought that people in general would be more comfortable communicating with people behind screens and behind closed door more than face to face interactions.

But what stroke me today was about what effects does technology have on the grieving process? Has it made it harder to grieve? One could listen to their love one's voice mails, hanging on to those sweet sounds of their voice, but feel that void in their heart because their life was slipped out of their hands. Or one could read old text messages, watch picture slide shows on tablets, virtually carrying them around with you all day.

It's like the deceased are living on in some creepy space that lies between this world and the next.  A weird feeling can shake one's bones to think about it is almost as if they are living there, a dimensional touch away, living behind our consciousness.  

One would begin to wonder, "will texts respond"? Update status.

One could only imagine grieve-stricken individuals heart's crying as they are gripping, grasping to these technological, electronic objects.

Or maybe not. Maybe it helps one say goodbye; helps the natural process along. The conveyor belt of constant reminders of the missed could be comforting, let you really say goodbye. But what is really saying goodbye?

The loved one is gone you know. One can't forget that. Staring at smiling faces of them, happier times, moments; instances of pure joy. It's almost like one's selfishness is slowing taking away their smiles. Their eyes in the photo seem to be still glowing; a fire burns inside of you.

Does technology nurse the process along, or is it a curse, to  mess with people's heads and hearts?

My love for you flourishes inside me, deep inside my core;
Our love is so uniquely special, so divinely pure.

This lustful disease fills my being, flows through my veins;
It seems the only sounds I hear are the syllables of your name.

Your arms are meant to hold me, our fingers intertwine;
My lips are meant to declare one thing,
Your ears hear me whisper "you're mine".

You inject me with positivity, with you I  feel so sure;
I'm strung out on love, oh tu est mon amour .

Your powerful soul captivates me, moves my every bone;
There's no way I'd ever leave your side, don't ever leave me alone.

 For when I was lost in the darkness, it was you who took me home.

Sometimes I feel like my past is haunting me;
Maybe somethings we are not meant to forget,
Maybe I am not entitled for anyone to forgive.

Sometimes I feel like my past is haunting me;
Shadows over my shoulder with blacken evil twig of fingers
Oh, my regret.

Reaching out to spook me by poking me with a tap;
But isn't it that we make our own shadows?
Oh, I just want to live.

Sometimes I feel like my past is haunting me;
But even in the light,
The shadows will be easier to see.

Is it that that the past will always be there;
Oh, how it lingers.
It's like it will remain no matter how I walk away;
Is it something that I lack?

Sometimes I feel like my past is haunting me;
My ole ball and chain.
Will I ever make things right?

I look down in despair at my feet;
Only to see the ashamed stems of my shadowed past.
My feet begin to move faster but she never goes away.

Sometimes I feel like my past is haunting me;
My legs begin a full stride.
But even if I swallow all my pride,
She will never fade away.

I face my shadowy demons head on;
A mirror shades of grey.

Sometimes I feel like my past is haunting me;
As I find that I have run through an alley way.
Oh, my back is against the wall.

Will my past still haunt my present;
Leaving my future with no soul,
No hope at all.

Photo Extra

Photo extra from my short LomoKino movie filmed yesterday. Stay tuned to check it out.

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