Barrel As I look down the barrel I do not flinch nor do I squint, I just calmly load it and stare. Thoughts of her and of memories past flash across my mind like a vast open winter's sky. I wonder if it was all a game to me. Had I made the right move, or was it that I had moved the wrong piece at the right time? Was I not the champion or did I simply know that my darkness would over power me and show me the truth between her lies? So I stare into the barrel not flinching nor squinting. All thoughts begin to run together, I see her walk away and I slowly fade into nothing more then an ecBarrel
LogicalShow tune singer and pancake burner, sliding in pink socks across the tile. Tattooed biker and pierced eared Goth, tugging on leather and painting on black, You're just a little scary now. Tea drinker and incense burner, strumming a guitar to the songs of the sand, my own personal hippie, you say. You're the meat eating vegetarian, the make-up wearing naturalist. The pirate who's afraid of the sea... who never swashed nor buckled, pillaged or pummeled, for that matter. You're the lover we all hate, and the brother no one knows. Sidestepping reunions, &nbLogical
Time MurdererYou're letting it tick past, Losing infinity, it's worthless seconds. There's no excuse for this squandering, nothing is tricking you. Fun is not the culprit, as you claim, causing the time to fly past before you get a chance to catch it. You forfeited your era, your power, as you watched the seconds die. You saw them bleed out, spiritless, by a continuance of negligence that can exist only from a trigger man, such as yourself. You will masquerade the truth, hide it from the children's eyes... that time cannot be wasted, time can only be killed, &nTime Murderer
Teacher's CashierZoning out, watching those frequents, the costumers hopped up- Or drugged down- browsing around. Stare out the window, watch the gum, See some man as he takes a stab... At a roll of paper towels. It's just another Wednesday. Scream to attention,Teacher's Cashier
when the coffee maker jarrs even the deadest of workers from their sleep, That's it's job, almost as bad as mine. Scan item after item, ignore the obscenes And wish them all a good day. Wave an arm, finally, to see a familiar face. He strolls over, but pays no mind, To you, the girl behind the counter. So,
waiting stillit's 1:32 am and i follow your pastwaiting still
footsteps from page to page waiting
reading what you've written smiling at the jokes you've made while i was away while you were waiting
your thoughts of spent hours jump out at me
in color and i realize
you have a life without me
while i hang clothes and smile at customers all the while looking at my watch thinking of the wait
for the train in the new brisk air
that sets in around nine (midnight your time) and how my jean jacket
won
Drink Me. Drink Me I'll needDrink Me
something for breakfast, even before I hit the john; stop at the fridge
where the carton of milk
and its white-lipped rim
mouths
Drink Me
for only a moment
before brown-bottled ranks
raise voices in chorus:
Drink Us, Drink Up, O.J. echoes the same
without the allure
as I grab it by the throat
and put its lips to my own. Drink Me, it says, and I drink. I am drinking, I tell the juice.
I am drinking, I tell the milk.
I will save you for later,
save your
self for me,
as I wipe beads of water off the cold glass.
Drink Me says what remains of the
I am truly sorry.
--
-Ragotm
"And in the end, of course, a true war story is never about war...It's about love and memory. It's about sorrow. It's about sisters who never write back and people who never listen."
-Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried
--
-Ragotm
"And in the end, of course, a true war story is never about war...It's about love and memory. It's about sorrow. It's about sisters who never write back and people who never listen."
-Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried
--
oz
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Do not click!
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