A Lyrical Writing Prompt

Originally published at: A Lyrical Writing Prompt – Molten Aether News

So rather than an image this time, I’d like to do a lyrical prompt, this comes from the song Off to the Races by Lana Del Rey, one of my personal favorites. I would suggest to people to not be tied to the song itself, the artist is clearly painting a vivid picture of a certain kind of relationship. However, don’t be concerned with straying away from that and into the realm of places one can take the verse itself on its own merit.

Because I'm crazy, baby I need you to come here and save me I'm your little scarlet starlet Singing in the garden Kiss me on my open mouth

For those that want it, here is the original song.

I suppose I’ll go first…

Her body had always been her stock and trade. A swish of the hips, a slight smile, short skirt, low cut top. That only takes a girl so far though. No idea why she can’t stop, at the track again, and again, betting, losing, betting, winning, betting losing, and losing, and again… Over and over again, in debt with the wrong people. The goons would take it from her on her back at first, legs spread to the sides, back arched, pretending it wasn’t in an old warehouse with roaches and rat shit on the floor. Pretending the smell of their unwashed bodies didn’t penetrate into her nostrils and course through her thoughts of how long she was. Long ago she’d given up thinking this was just someplace she’d gotten to, it implied escape. No, she had accepted this was who she was.

Then he came, says he loves her, says he needs her. Is that what love is? Entertaining his friends, distracting this person or that, used on her back or her knees. She was numb to it, or at least tried to tell herself that. Then came the day when someone had hurt her and she’d hurt back with the pile of hurt that was inside her and when he lay dead on the floor he came and cleaned it up, told her to do as he said and he’d keep her safe. By safe he meant out of jail, and by do what she was told he meant anything, everything, she was property. One call, one drop off, one snap of his fingers and she’d be in jail again.

It was her fate. Why? She couldn’t say other than to say that she knew she deserved it, otherwise the unjust and putrid God she prayed to would never have let it get this far. Far worse than this mortal coil was waiting for her when she died… So keep moving. Don’t think. Keep running. Never stop. Never think. Do as you’re told. He’ll always forgive you so long as you do what you’re told. Who knew God smoked that brand of cigars.

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