can it be

one sanguine ripe fruit

halts death in its tracks

teachers blushing bribe

invariably not falling far

rosy cheeked youngsters

favorite of every father's

all seeing eye

conceived to purposefully

humiliate annihilate us all

a big celestial hellfire haha

original sin

rubyred polished up beckoning

tasty nutritious fiber filled yum

you never loved me

never wanted to me

mom mother mum

you thought little jugs

didn't have big memories

and ears to hear back then

every blow absorbed

not spared less spoiled

dutiful grudging parent

you raised me loathing

memorizing scripture

hail merry full of hate

when you lay dying

I too was dutiful

mopping urine

I fed you

clothed you

gave you drink

vinegar on a sponge

as you cried out

to be taken home

I dressed your corpse

like a garish whore

painted your lips red

no service no obit

hate me for eternity

still not long enough

You can call me a mass murderer but then aren’t we all? Christ in the great sermon, before the breaking of the loaves and fish to feed the five thousand, fed them this: whoever has murder in their heart is already guilty of the judgement.

And, so I am.

I kill mentally too many times to recall at a split second leaving no trace. I killed the guy in the beat-up maroon Camry who rode my bumper flipping me off as he sped passed, the hospital technician who always calls me a little prick before drawing my blood, and of course I killed my neighbor. Just like that. Gone. No body, DNA, camera shot. Like it never happened, except in my mind. Only God knows and those who read my confession on this digital paper trail.

in the mirror

my self glows

abundantly

self assured

youth ridden

smooth skinned

flashing dashing

oozing desirability

give me that

a tin plated glass

with the power to

reverse my torments

erase the living horror

separate me from that

sad sorrowful silhouette

dejected downcast outcast

I cannot help but observe

in naked eyes of wanders

who catch a passing peek

forced to pivot away fast

for fear fright

what I have

am

is infectious

as plants grow toward the sun

so I grow toward you.

why could you not care for me

as you did your philodendrons

turning me from time to time

so

I could have grown tall & strong

instead of spindly gangling weak

& ultimately unable

to survive our slaughtering sunset?

May flowers

bought and paid for

duty sent to a mom

who sniffs

as if her allergies

were not already enough

this year

wasted money

that could have

been given to poor

set in a vase on the sill

until the water turns green

and the flowers crumble

to dust

in three days

This is when I catch a glimpse of me passing by flickered wavy reflected in the auto-open doors snapping back of a WalMart on a bustling breezy day. Windblown nose and cheeks red from the chill what little hair tossed and laid barren dried seaweed abandoned on the shores of a drought-ridden Galilee. My clothes a hurried layered attempt to cover my aching rapidly withering frame just to insulate it from the constant cold. Mismatched.

I am mismatched. A walking antithesis of every ambition I spent my life like a kid with endless pennies feeding and twisting the great bubble gum machine in the sky hoping praying to land the one black ball with the pure gold gooey center so often told and retold in movie myths. Cheeks bulging with expectant desire grown fat stretched thin deemed stupid now hollow stubby grey sunken defeated.

I'm the mess my mother always told me I'd make of my life. This day alone just looking to purchase a loaf of bread and grape jelly to help fill the gnawing always in my gut as I fumble with with the self checkout technology hands covered in liver spots bulging blue veins chewed to the quick finger nails. Smirks and subtle avoidance surrounds me like a stinking shield. I am that old debris crumpled filth that blows into ditches with the seasons only to be stabbed and bagged by chain gangs when dandelions bloom.

you can turn around anytime

but you can never go home again

never go back to that road less taken

you can zig zag or keep going steady

but the past will always follow

tail to your kite

weighing you down

a wedding train of regret

heavier than your strength

to tug it round

twirl swirl pivot

you can turn around anytime

but only to know that every step

has anchored you

to where you now stand weeping

Then one day

you wake up smothered in accumulation

you never needed

will go untouched

growing dusty

and you realize

that you too are dusty with age

unused undesirable

and no one will care

except those hired to remove the waste

the trunk loads

stench regrets remains refuse junk

so much promise

unfilled

shiny treasured twinkling trinkets

collections meant to grow in value

sacred writings for the ages masses

taut thighs hairy balls turned grey

clasping grasping wet hot moments

dim buried dying

now dust covered with dust

offered up cluttering the curb

cardboard sign with felt tip letters

FREE

The world gone apocalyptic in a twinkling of an eye. As predicted. No one could have ever guessed we'd move so fast.

It would be silly to get mad, Max. As so many are to blame. There's not one you could label as enemy, sentence to burn black charred and expect it to subside.

Once the ending is set in motion, the dominos fall all by themselves. No breath of human air - sparkling exuberant candles extinguished at a lavish birthday party - need be added. The fires will die on their own once everything is burned beyond AI recognition.