A Ghost Between
Hair unkempt.
The ends don't lay as cleanly as they used to.
Or perhaps I've just stopped caring.
Sallow grey beneath raven eyes.
The darkness hides behind.
Perhaps once upon a time
I might've painted on a face.
But I don't have the heart
To wear two masks.
And the practiced smile
Is enough of a chore to maintain.
I've had younger days
When hope thrived to grow
Beneath bright eyes.
When it was the lips I painted
And not the smile itself.
Those days are long since past.
The red is now a different shade.
A shadow has been cast.
I am not as old as I will be someday
And not as young as I once was.
I am a ghost between
The innocence and freedom of youth
And the wisdom and grace of old age.
Survive
The world went quiet, too quiet.
For hundreds of years, humanity had been relying more and more on technology. They used it to learn, to entertain, and even to live in many cases. Gone were the days of the computers and the smart phones. Most humans had been receiving implants since 2200 to improve their senses, live longer, and avoid diseases entirely. It seemed like society was on the way to perfection and nothing could go wrong.
Until it did.
No-one knows who was truly responsible, but somehow every electronic device in the world was disabled immediately. Over 75% of the population died immediately, another 20% suffered first. The remaining population suddenly was missing eyes, limbs, and the ability to process information at the speed of light.
With no way to communicate the others and realize what was going on, several survivors went insane. Most of the world’s population died in just a few minutes and the rest wished that they had.
In the end, there were less than 5,000 humans left alive in the world that were still somewhat sane. Most of them were spread out and unable to communicate with each other. For a long while it was unsure whether or not the species would go extinct entirely.
They might have, if it wasn’t for the simple fact that they were human. They could be traumatized, they could be separated by millions of miles, but there was a similar trait that all humans shared.
They were survivors, and as long as one of them were alive, they’d fight to the end to live.
A Fun Ride
He held the bottle, name jack streached across it.
She held her stuffed animal in the back seat.
Her father told her it was gonna be fast, no pain, no crying, just peace.
She didn't know what to do so she held her stuffed animal tight.
He told her that it was gonna be okay.
He drove over the edge.
She heard the water running into the car.
She screamed and screamed.
Her Daddy was asleep.
She was awake she escaped that night.
Because her stuffed animal told her too.
Just because her dad had depression doesn't means she had it too
She had something worse.
Schizophrenia is something that makes you hear things.
At least this hallucination was a good one.
It made her live.
But her daddy was the one at the bottom of the river.
and thats okay because she escaped death.
She was the surviovr.
What Gets Me
People.
People from all walks of life.
different languages,
customs and habits.
People move about in a certain way,
they smile a certain way,
even argue a certain way.
People are the intelligence
we come to learn and grow from.
Places.
No two places are the same,
just as no two thoughts,
no two people.
Low buildings to highrises,
Houses built looking the same,
yet inside, decorated differently.
People place their personal touch;
their beauty of decoration.
Ideas.
We all have them.
Without them,
we have nothing.
With them,
possibilities are endless.
Take one person, one idea.
Two people multiply thought,
and so on ... endless.
Love.
People care.
People hold passion,
and just not for love itself.
It could be their idea,
their home,
or ideas that bring them harmony.
With all these things combined,
there is a story within to write.
Five days to write.
Five minutes to post time.
Five seconds to smile as you read.
Simple joy in knowing,
writer's make reader's pleased,
saddened, angered, joyful.
If only I could see the faces
when they read.
Deadbeat Dad
Absent Father,
We regret to inform you that your application for "Belated Fatherhood" has been denied. This decision was made after thorough reviewal of your application as well as substantial research into your history as a father.
You're application lacked several of the necessary qualifications for "Belated Fatherhood" acceptance. These qualifications include:
- emotional support provided to child for 5+ years
- explicit desire for regular visits with your child
- sincere remorse for shortcomings during child's younger years
- actual love for the child
As well as an incomplete application, it appears the child for which you wish to enroll in "Belated Fatherhood" for is over the age of eighteen. Our records indicate the child is twenty-two years of age. In this case, you are required to not only file an application for "Belated Fatherhood" but to also jointly file an application for "Inadequate Childhood Involvement". Our records show you did not file an application for "Inadequate Childhood Involvement".
If you wish to resubmit an application for "Belated Fatherhood" along with a joint application of "Inadequate Childhood Involvement", you may do so no sooner than 60 days from the date your original application was filed.
Board of Insufficient Parental Re-Entry
Transfer of Power
Fall arrives slowly, uncertainly.
She tentatively moves closer,
Reaching for summer's green leaves,
Enveloping herself in the last of summer's warmth.
Summer turns to Fall with joy,
"Fall! You're here! Finally!"
They stand together, watching over the world.
But only for a moment.
Summer is weary, she is at last relieved.
"Are you ready?" She asks Fall.
But it is too late.
Summer is fading, and Fall grows stronger.
In a moment she stands alone, afraid.
Summer's vibrant green world reminds her of her duty.
She, with renewed strength,
Reaches towards those happy greens.
Fall's power glows, as the land is transformed.
Green is replaced by yellow, and orange, and red.
A crisp breeze blows,
The leaves swirl through the air.
Yet Fall's time is fleeting,
So short, yet so beloved.
For as her glorious colorful leaves fall,
She sees Winter approaching from the distance.
Fall turns back to her leaves and smiles.
Ten
Slowly, I counted the steps between,
Her body and mine. Nine,
She pulled back a black shawl,
Sprawled over the thorns of her shoulders.
The blue moon glistened on leathery skin.
Eight, and my heart rate rises,
Her eyes dilate as I tear away breastplate.
I beg for her progression. Seven,
Stepping closer, eyes transfix, six,
Her arms rip, a barely covering dress.
She wears less and less, I press on.
I drive towards her, five. We're almost running,
Our gazes cunning, both wanting,
To take each other before, four, the other.
Three, I am reaching for her chest,
Her firm breasts rising as her arms raise,
There are no more plays, two,
She, who holds my heart,
Now grabs at my horns and hair.
I am there and she has won.
One.