The Last Time I Was On Cotton Street...

So, "I'm here on business." is what I say to this chick. So, what does she say? "Let me see your badge." I was like..whoa! y'know because I'm here to get this lady's cat out of her tree and she's here barking up MY tree. I mean, what the hell? So, I tell her to be quiet while I call for the fire department...little do I know this chick is sneakin' up behind me with a damn crowbar and is about knock my brains out from here to Timbuktu. I see this coming out of the corner of my eye and duck at the last second, but it still catches my ear and rips it off. So, I got my walkie-talkie in my right hand and the cascading fountain of blood where my ear used to be in my left. I pass out because all off the blood I lost and next thing I know I'm on my back in the hospital. I wake up to the sound of shitty day-time TV and I look to my left and I see a bag. What's in the bag? It's my fucking ear. My fucking ear covered in ice. The bitch somehow got me to the hospital, got me admitted to the ER. And put my ear in a bag next to me for when I wake up. THAT is one crazy bitch. Nice tits though.

The Word Hoard.

The urge to die is unfathomable. 

Steel of a blade as cold as the tundra

Is knocking at the door of her soul.

Vengeful guile fuels the inevitable. 

Blood as warm as the touch Helio

is compromised.

Class Is Now In Session

He writes a message on a blackboard.

She writes a message on a blackboard.

They both write on the same blackboard.

Chalk dust overlaps the previous entrenched canals

From chapters of artists who have came and went.

He and She have been gone for years.

They never intend to come back.

They have no need to.

             pointless.

A Knight, a night.

The eyes sink deep into its skull

(like)

Stones cast into an unblemished lake.

The hands are quick to react

(yet)

Sluggish to deliver. 

Shrieking pangs of silence fly

(by)

 Its crooked ears.

Insomniacs everywhere scoff

(and)

Call it an asshole.

Galloping through your world, you

(are)

unaware of the chronicles of immortality. 

"Hi, my name is Kathryn."

I find myself sitting on a stone bench alongside a gravel path in a park. I'm under the shade of a huge maple tree. It's cold in the shade so cold that it's almost unrealistic. The grass surrounding the bench is unusually long. It's almost as if someone has forgotten to cut it in years. The sun makes a jagged yet accurate line across the brown colored gravel path. There are no sounds except the sounds of the golden maple leaves hitting the very long grass other than that, it's completely silent. No birds singing, no cars running, nothing else in this park except me. Sitting on the stone bench. 

I notice I'm dressed for an occasion of some sort. It's not formal but it's not casual either. I'm wearing a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and khaki dress pants with brown shoes. I sit there examining my surroundings. My concentration is broken by a young lady in a black dress walking down the gravel path. I've seen her before. She has light red, curly hair and she looks absolutely beautiful. She is so happy. Her smile is so perfect it's like an artist took his whole life to paint it that perfect. I just sit there and appreciate how beautiful she really is. She hasn't looked at my once. She hasn't even noticed my presence. Then I stand up and walk out of the shade of the tree and into the middle of the path where I meet her.

When she sees me her perfect smile runs from her face like grains of sand in the wind. I'm still in awe of her beauty. Then I slip out of it and proceed to greet her. "Hi there beautiful, how are you?" She doesn't say anything. The wind starts to pick up, slowly. Her eyes start to water like she's on the verge of crying. Everything seems to slow to almost a crawl. I move closer to her and gently put my hand on her cheek and kiss her other. The leaves are swirling around us. Just us. It's like we are attracting them some how. There are so many. It's like we are in golden wind storm. My eyes explore the jaw-dropping environment that just formed around us and I notice everything is frozen for just a moment except me and her. She mouths something to me but I can't hear it, I can't make out what it was. And before I could ask her to repeat herself,time catches up to us and the massive amount of leaves that were swirling above us fall and obstruct my vision. I shout her name over and over again but she doesn't respond. I can't find her. I would give anything to find her. I fall to my knees with the last of golden maple leaves gently falling down in rhythm with my tears.

Gone are the birds

I find myself in a prison cell. The cell is completely dark except for the hopeless beam of light coming from near the top of the wall that seems welcoming but unreachable. At this moment in my life, it's the most beautiful thing I've seen in years. Then again, it's the only thing that I haven't managed to screw up yet...give it time, it's like clockwork. My wrists are bounded together with rusty shackles. The heat of the room forces you to feel every bead of moisture that you breath in. My clothes are sweat laden and dirty from previous unknown encounters. The every-now-and-again blood stains on my tainted (or what was) white dress shirt that I wore so proudly before help me piece together the memories that lead me here.

I sit on a rock near the river bank...where we decided to meet. The sun sits high and watches me like a weary parent. Birds in the trees above sing in a heavenly tone. The river provides a comforting, natural harmony that calms the butterflies in my stomach transiently. The old tire swing sways gently in the wind while the rotting rope clings with all of its strength to the thick branch; fighting for just one more day of happiness and dignity. Your favorite flower rests in my hands as I patiently await your arrival. I softly roll the stem between my fingers in great anticipation to see if your smiling face will come around that corner, but who are we kidding? We both know that you won't be here. Yet I still cling to the roots of hope of past memories shared together that are never to be repeated. There I sit on that rock near an unreserved river praying, pleading to God for this moment to arise.

Hours pass and still no sign of you. Gone is the sun...overtaken by darkness. Gone are the birds...replaced by shadows. Still I sit here under the bleached moon light, blanketed with an unrelenting chill. I gaze into your flower with lifeless eyes...gone is my love for you.

Hal The Mule

I watch him drift in and out of sleep. He is fighting gallantly to keep his consciousness in his pocket, but he is growing weak. The sound of the old grandfather clock ticking is visiting with the sound of his jerking back and forth, hitting the head of the chair. He cannot carry on like this anymore and he finally gives into this swindler of the tired. He lets go and begins to frolic through fields of chocolate bars and in the middle is his longtime friend, Hal the mule. They start to converse about this and that.

This man who just whisked himself into slumber is my father. As he continues to talk Hal the mule, I examine him. I look at his black, thin hair that is now inviting the ever incumbent Mr. Gray. I gaze upon his face and hands that have become withered in time. Age and hard work are the prime suspects. I begin to think about what he has seen in his days. What kind of places he has been. I think about the first time my mother laid her eyes on him. I think if I could ever be as hardworking and loving he has been. 

He wakes up. Asks me what I want to watch on T.V. 

"I don't care. Whatever you want to watch is fine."