The darkness was approaching. The reds and oranges of the sunset, creeping together with the blackness that occurs when it's time for the moon. Contemplating life, reaching for answers. Like, "why did I leave home," "how did I watch him pack the car and drive away?" and others. Soul-searching. The sound of crickets, the rustling of small animals. I was scared, but not of my surroundings, just of what my late 20's had become. A joke, a hot mess, a scandal, some lies. I bet that's what people were thinking of me anyway. A job I hated, a life I...
Daring to be noticed for the first timein her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up.
The room fell silent as she began to speak croakily at first and with a slight tremor in her voice. But, as she continued, her words became clearer ad sweeter by the second. He was transfixed at the way her eyes began to sparkle. They were bluer than he remembered and the delicate flush in her cheeks added much to her delicate beauty. In all the weeks thay had been attending the group he hadn't realised just how lovely she was. He...
When I arrived, the hyena was circling him silently, and the silence was what bothered me the most. It should be cackling. But it was just quiet. I'd seen enough hyenas hunting to know that this was wrong.
I looked at my options, felt out with all my senses to see what living creatures were nearby. Posessing the photographer was no good, since he clearly had no weapons and not much physical strength, even with my intellect of fighting capabilities. If I possessed the hyena, if The Shadow was already inside (and I knew it was, no hyena was that...
I jumped. Yes, I jumped into this fiery ring with full knowledge of what I was doing. I couldn't help myself. She was a wonder to behold. It didn't matter that she was married. It didn't matter that she had children. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Her hair was the most wonderful shade of honey-blond. Her eyes were liquid pools of green fire. Our passion knew no bounds. We lived in a world made just for us. But like all things, our world had an end. She was married. She had children. They were beautiful...
I looked out over the masses. Between me and my goal milled hundreds of the worst sort of pedestrians. Tourists. Somewhere across the piazza a girl, and her girl, waited.
This date...more than any other...I could not fuck up.
I started across the sunstruck stones, their heat searing even through my shoes. The picnic basket in my hand no longer seemed so grand an idea as I sought to twist and push through any gap that presented itself.
Didn't these fools know that I had someplace I needed to go?
Every yard of progress seemed to cost me more time...
They laughed at the little thing as it squirmed
The dark water so close but so far away now in their minds
The way things change the eye flits away reconstructs
Safety is everywhere in this dangerous time, safety is in the struggling eyes of a small thing
They left it to it's toil the diurnal nocturnal pull of it's nature
Clinging to the raft looking at the shore
The sun warm and pure on it's matted fur
Sometimes, the best cure for loneliness is to actually be alone. Which is actually kind of hard to do, considering there are something like 6 bills people on the planet. You have to actually try.
Alone is different from lonely. Alone is a choice. Lonely is a sickness. My sickness has lasted two years, six months, eleven days, and I'm to the point where I must get better, or die. So I put on my black "fuck off" jacket, and put my headphones in my ears, and I made a choice to be alone. And I walked. I walked all...
reminded of yesterday
time and syllables
on the bus
greening the escapades
sifting the aftermath
reliving just before
loving the waters
time on stop
bridging the gap
minding the openness
all says go
the road to
My father was born. The pressed leaves of Limerick brushed from the crib. A mirage shimmers over the pond. Ships and flags and trucks. Red brick stoops on analog streets. Lamps on the corners.
We move and it is 30 years later. Soon the crushed leaves of New York gather. The east coast bleeds in tides, rushing us over the Plains.
In the West, we dry in the momentary sun, then open our mouths for the never-ending rain.
I held it at arm's length. Then I let the bell pull go, and somewhere deep within the old house a distant bell rang. The House had sinister rumours surrounding it. Some said it was Death's Door itself.
When the quiet aged man answered some time later, he just chuckled at my Halloween costume.
"I've got a Knock Knock joke for you." he sighed, "Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"DEATH…"
"Death wh…"
It seems HE doesn't like being disturbed, but does have a sense of humour.