These hands. These hands have felt and touched so much
in their years of attachment to the wrist. Now growing old
with creases deepening and becoming weathered by time.
And these eyes. The optic scope of the world that this body
has had the power to see through and deeply into the
wonderful mysteries that surround us- but some may forget,
as if there are greater things to think about than where do colors
come from. And these ears, hearing their way through city streets
by night and taken to different heights by day as the world
erupts with a...
Hooked up to machines and pipes, I lay here, hearing my hard breathing, my hard heart beating.
I hear the beeping of a machine. I hear the sheets of my bed move together and I shift my weight from my left to my right. I hear my joints grind.
It is so loud in this room. So many things making so many noises. I can't stand it. Someone just come in here and make some actual noise. Something that an old man can be distracted with and not focus on the frivolous.
The frivolous things such as the time I...
A small woman in her mid-20's sits in a doctor's office staring, seemingly at nothing, right in front of her, as if peering deep into herself. Her eyes, drooping at the small corners, glistening slightly as they search from left to right and then from right to left. A deep sigh lodged in the cavernes of her being finally escapes.
The door opens and in shuffles an older man, gray speckled hair, deep wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes from squinting at translucent sheets held up to lights, his glasses resting on his nose several inches from his...
Wooshy
Wooshy and futuristic
Just out of the corner of my eye, that thing I had been running towards, to, seeking
It moved
With a woosh and a blur
And me left here behind
Without outward direction
Spinning to find the horizon, when did the sun go down? How had it become so late?
I felt old and breathy and hot
I felt like I no longer knew things
I had never known things
Things had never been allowed to know me
Running so long
I lay down in the green moist grass
I watched the ants
Where were they...
Creeping up again. That is what I thought as as I woke up in my nice but dull apartment. The life I had made for myself, without you, or her, or anyone really at least not anyone warm and willing...wet. Here i was sure, so sure this time that I had vanquished these feelings these ridiculous needs to share my life, my bed to feel your long fingers reaching in to hold me. Gah, too much whiskey not enough coffee or maybe the other way around. I needed to get up to take care of this go downtown and buy...
He does not even see him. My goodness, quit taking pictures of me and turn around you moron. The hyena is laying low to the ground, covered by the brush, unless you look at him head on.
The hyena is inching closer to the human, who of course, is facing me. I need to get over there quickly.
My back condenses, and loads like a spring. SNAP. I am the fastest land animal. I should be able to get there in time.
I am off, and this feeling never gets old. The brush is tall, but not tall enough to...
Dispossessed
All he had to his name was this park bench, and not even that.
As he sat and gazed off into the distance, he contemplated his fate. He'd lost his job, then his home, then his family. Nothing was left to him, not even his body that lay six feet under rotting in a pauper's grave. His spirit sat on the bench that the shelter had dedicated to his memory. Suicide had not ended his suffering. Dispossessed of everything he had held dear, he contemplated getting his life back.
His ex-wife stood looking at the bench, at his name...
The princess gazed from her tower to the lake, the castle reflected ever so perfectly in the waters. "Nann." She whispered. She could almost see herself in the window of the watery tower. "Look at the castle in the lake."
Her nanny crept behind her, stole a glance over the princess' shoulder. Shuddered. "Come away, child. Away from the window."
"Why, what for, Nann?"
"There's worlds sometimes should not be looked at. There are good castles and bad. Please, m'dear. That lake stole your brother from us. Ain't nothing good to come from it."
So the princess was shuffled to...
"I shot my butler." I threw the manuscript across the room. Grabbed a scotch. No. Wait. Wanted a scotch, grabbed a bourbon. Drank it anyway. What kind of a piss-poor story ends with "I shot my butler?"
It was Fight Club, that's what did it. I think. All this unreliable narrator business. The publishing world hasn't been the same since, filled with hacks trying to seem clever with these terrible twist endings. It's almost unbearable.
I polished off my bourbon. Still wanted scotch. Rang for Jeffrey. The house is too big, I can't be expected to go all the way...
The gods used the lake as their mirror, reflecting their beauty along its still waters, awash with azure skies and billowing clouds of purest white. The earth goddess tolerated their use of her lake, because it suited her. The heavenly colors complimented her own, golden shores and the brown shining mountains that surrounded the blue waters. If only the heavens could grant her wish, she would trade places with the gods of the sky and walk upon her own shores. As maudlin thoughts filled her like the waters of that same lake, she changed her mind and only wished to...