bleeding out brain cells on cracked earth.

it’s that moment

in your life

when you realize.

 

you just realize;

you gather up all

  of the thoughts

  and choices

  and mistakes

  and successes

  and failures

from your life and

you put everything

together.

 

you put everything together

into this pinnacle– this peak

of culminated ideas.

once you’re on top

of that peak– that’s when you realize

again.

 

and what you realize is

that you’re one

step

from slipping off

this peak;

down this peak;

down hard.

 

then, someone throws

a rock at you

from further down

the peak,

and you finally slip

gracelessly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

and you tumble

and crash

off the peak

and down the mountain,

and you pass the

rockthrower and maybe you

flip him off

on the way down,

but you keep falling,

until you hit

your head

on a stone close

to the base of the mountain,

and then

that’s

it.

 

you left your mark on

the mountain

in the form of

splattered brains

and crisp blood,

and you’re at the

bottom,

and there’s no

getting up.

 

and maybe

you’d realize that

no one stays at the top forever,

if you weren’t bleeding out brain cells on cracked earth. 

White.

I cut my hair for the funeral.

I left the shop at a quarter to four and took a walk down Main Street, the curbs lined with trash and confetti. Must’ve missed a parade. I wonder why. Maybe I’m doing this to myself. Maybe I’m not. I mean, it’s not your fault I’m like this. It’s your heart’s.

           

            It’s cold and I don’t know why; it’s the middle of August. I found myself shivering, even in my suit. I wish I could just go back home, and I wish you weren’t such a damned inconvenience to us all. Making Dad feel this way. He was starting to get his shit together, too. It was going to be whole again. And you get out on a rare condition; a loophole in all senses of the word.

           

            Yeah, you heard me. A fucking loophole, you pussy. You got out on a percentage.

 

            I’m empty, and I think you know why.

 

            We all die in the same no-name hospital, between the same white walls, in the same decrepit bed. I didn’t want that for you. I didn’t want that for Mom, either. What the fuck is wrong with both of you? Dad fucking needs you, you can’t just go like that. You can’t just leave it all behind in the mid-August unexplainable cold. Dad’s not even showing up your funeral. He found the bottles again. He’s back to square one. Behind him, a trail of death and loss and morbid shit that no man should have to deal with and it’s all your fault. You did this, you coward.

 

            I made it to the funeral. Just black everywhere. My white suit doesn’t fit well, and I’m no good with emotions so I’ll just stand outside the gates. Dad isn’t here. Neither is mom. Neither am I. A few of your friends showed up. Jess, Paul, Mary. Peter couldn’t make it.

 

            Dad’ll be fine though. He always ends up okay. Three losses and he still looks for that win. Don’t you worry. Life will go on without you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, is that life doesn’t end cause of the loss of one. It ends cause of the loss of yourself, and Dad’s too strong for that shit. He’ll prevail.

 

            He loved you so much. You know how much I did, as well. It’s okay. Dying comes easy. Nothing to worry about anymore. And you’ll get to be with Mom again too, and me. It’ll be okay.

           

            I’ll see you soon, brother.

St Raphael.

The day of your birth I was a made man. We’d been waiting for this day for a while– your mom and me. And, well, it was finally the day we got to see your beautiful face for the first time. Needless to say, I was excited.

            It was about 8:00 in the morning when your mother told me we needed to go to the hospital, and I immediately complied. It was obvious enough what the deal was; you were deciding to make your way into the world. So, your mother and I ran over to the car (well, to be fair, your mom waddled), and I drove us to the hospital. The St.RaphaelHospital, to be exact. Yeah, we rushed her in as fast as we could, and they hooked her up and did the regular hospital routine for delivering babies.

            I was there with her the whole time.  She was breathing, squeezing my hand. The doctors were telling her directions, relaxing her, preparing her. Your mother was ready though; she’s a strong woman. I sure as hell wasn’t ready, but hey, why should I be complaining? At least I don’t have to go through labor, right? The medical staff was erratic, speeding about the room, doing whatever doctors do. I’m sure if I knew, I’d be a better man, but that’s not the point. It was a little unsettling. I guess I showed it on my face, because amidst the chaos and screaming, your mother looked up at me and smiled. And it felt like the whole world stopped for that one perfect smile.

            That’s when everything went wrong. Your mother tensed up, and started screaming, which is normal. But this was louder than usual; more of a wail. The doctors rushed to her side and told her to keep breathing, and she followed their directions, and I just stood there, speechless. I didn’t know what to do, so I just stepped back. And she just kept screaming. Over and over. That’s when I saw blood. There was just blood. And they pulled you out but it was too late. And I couldn’t handle it. I just couldn’t. I cried and your mother screamed. Your mother stayed overnight in the hospital, and I did too.

            The night of your birth I was a broken man.

Face of Death.

She stared into the unfettering darkness and it felt as if the darkness stared back at her. Rain pattered against the thin sheet metal roof, and thunder made the ground quake. The wind picked up and the trees outside were thrust into an audible rustle, and the shack itself began to shift at the core and seemed as if it could collapse at any moment. Riddled across the walls were tiny holes that would relinquish the most essential glimpses of moonlight; the only source of lights in the shack. The light revealed dried blood on the floor of the shack, and scratches on the walls.

            As the wind intensified, rain began to blow in mists through the holes, and she shut her eyes as the water pushed against her face. When she opened them, thunder rolled. Quivering, she checked her pockets for a helpful tool, such as a match or a rock and found nothing but lint. She never averted her gaze from the darkness. She blinked and lightning crashed nearby, lighting up the shack in a bright and brilliant flash of tainted white. For a fraction of a second, she saw eyes; eight of them, all five feet off the ground in a line that transcended from the foreground to the background in a ‘V’.

            The pattering of the rain got louder and sounded like hail against an automobile. Lightning flashed again. The eyes had gotten closer but she averted her gaze to a body in the opposite corner of the shack, stomach ripped open; entrails removed. She immediately looked back at the eyes. The light died down once more, and the wind grew to staggering heights as the shack seemed as if it would be ripped from the ground. As she looked upon the multitude of eyes, they began to move closer and closer, uncaring to the fact she acknowledged their steady movement. Moonlight from the holes in the shack shined down behind the eyes and it revealed a black, bristly body, staggering in mass. Leg after leg shone in the rays of light.

            Lightning flashed again and the eyes were inches from her face. She saw two fangs dripping with blight and a mouth aching for a feast. Neither set of eyes blinked. Her eyes began to water with tears, either from the inability to blink or basic human fear. The rain grinded to a halt. The shack began to settle down as the wind surrounding it abruptly stopped. Thunder crashed in the distance. After that it was total silence for a few moments before a sharp hiss emitted before her. The drooling mouth in front of her opened to a gaping pit and the fangs plunged towards her neck, the creatures eyes locked in on hers, as if she stared into the face of death and it stared right back. 

seven haikus for all the flaws of you.

I

 

words cannot describe

your wretched little ego

after just one kiss

 

II

 

after a few months

you told me i could fuck you

on the carpet floor

 

III

 

big dreams of college

go look beyond and set sail

your ships sure to sink

 

IV

 

i matured a bit

it always frustrated you

i was such a flirt

 

V

 

you disgust me so

chocolate smeared on the bed

you licked it all up

 

VI

 

told you to relax

told me to shut the fuck up

i took your advice

 

VII

 

you kept wanting more

i took my chances and left

and ruined your life

 

 

 

Ghosts.

            He looked over at her to see her smiling. That old familiar face, her pale eyes, and those laugh lines that grow ever so heavy as the years progress. A morning like this was consistent, yet seemed fresh, demanding; special. He lay on the bed next to her, and they just stared at one another, without a word. Silence like this used to be deafening, but on this day it is welcome and valued. He broke the silence. Not with a word, but a brush of his hand across her forehead, moving strands of wispy gray hair away, positioning themselves over her once-vacant ear. She coughed, but then smiled wide, and that smile still melted him to the bone after all these years.

            He planted a kiss on her cheek, and got up. He then sat down in his nearby broken-in lounge chair and blankly stared at the bed. “What’s wrong, dear?” He blinked.

 

            “Hey, Jerry, you coming? We’re ready to head out to the funeral.”
            “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be right there.”
            “Whoa, hey there pal, what’s wrong?”

            “Nothing, nothing.” He averts his stare from the bed and gets up.

            “Just. . . Just seeing ghosts, is all.”

Room 223.

she walked in

while life was flowing

and i was groaning

the surprise of the night

was that i didnt see it coming

 

there was blood in her eyes

dead set on those thighs

i tried to intervene

and ended up questioning my morality

in room two hundred twenty three

 

i was pushed to the side

as she cut and she swiped

at a broken blonde baby

that screamed and cried

in defense of defenseless lies

 

so the blonde blacked out

as my baby lost control

and tackled me to the floor

and clawed at my skin

until i felt the burn of sin

 

the blood flowed thick

and i tasted nail polish number six

she stepped off my body

and finally decided to leave

with parting words parted as my debt:

 

baby

oh baby

 i wish you were dead.

Revelations.

I am the man before you
Who’s grandmother just had a heart attack
Who’s haunted each day by depression
Who’s realizing that maybe following your dreams

just isn’t for everyone

 

I am the woman next to you

Who’s day ends with a backwards hand

Who’s suffering from chronic anxiety
Who’s realizing that following your heart

is for the one’s with a heart to spare

 

I am the kid behind you
Who’s idea of bliss is never growing up

Who’s wondering which farm is dog ran off to

Who’s realizing when they said no one ever dies

they we’re lying straight to your face

 

I am you

Who’s grandmother just had a heart attack

Who’s suffering from chronic anxiety

Who’s realizing when they said no one ever dies

they we’re trying to protect you

 

Pursuit of Happiness.

You once dreamt of marriage,

whether those dreams be nightmares

or fantasies,

And you once dreamt of love,

both young

and eternal,

And you pondered upon loss,

so dreadful

and rotten,

And you pondered upon your unanswered prayers,

but you kept your faith,

and you held tight to it.

 

You once questioned life,

if it truly has any meaning at all,

And you once questioned your emotions,

and you wondered if they were worth the trouble.

Then you stopped worrying,

you did not stop questioning,

No,

you’d never do that.

 

But you stopped worrying,

and in those questions,

absence of worry,

and presence of faith,

You found happiness,

both young and eternal,         

emotions worth the trouble,

a feeling that squanders loss,

and one that repels nightmares.

 

And this is what happens,

when you pursue happiness,

And make it yours to keep.

747.

I saw the turbines rip off the sides, and heard the screech of ripping metal combined with panicked shouts and screams. The breathing apparatuses fell from ceiling compartments in front of each passenger. People began rushing to put them on each other. An adult took a breath from it, then gave it to his kid, as if it made a difference. I grabbed hold of a seat and looked ahead and saw that fire was engulfing first class; chances are the pilots are dead in the cockpit, burning. Holding on to the seat, I stood up and headed towards the back of the plane– grabbing onto any sort of stable object to maintain balance– until I found the liquor cabinet. I opened it and pulled a bottle of Jack out and took a swig and relaxed against a nearby wall and smelled searing flesh and heard roaring cries. The world was tilting at a 120 degree angle now; we were going down fast. I grabbed the liquor cabinet’s door and held tight, while a few poor men and woman fell through from the back of the plane towards the hellish flames in first class. I took another sip and threw the bottle after them. Then I closed my eyes and let go and fell into darkness and felt the heat of a blazing inferno and the stab of twisted metal.