Wolf

Evolution, my dear Darwin, is more than theory. We evolved from satirical machinations of human whimsy until the only divide existed solely in the inner sanctum of our minds. A full moon is just a moon. Our beast and claws remained within. We became clandestine monsters moving amongst the masses. We watched you and observed the cloying self indulgent peril of your emotions. Incapable of such drama, your human puppet show amused us greatly. Others scoffed, but I began to see humanity as more than deluded primates over romanticizing their most base urges. In one in particular, I saw kindness and I hungered. Myth pervades that we mate for life, we are merely selective. I saw you as beautiful and worthy. Fangs concealed, I submitted to you not as omega but an alpha to it's equal. I almost believed that I could be more, beguiled by the illusion of your words. I thought could join your masquerade with your mortal hand in mine. I can almost taste your blood as I read your hastily scrawled goodbye. The cruelty of what I am claws to the surface with each pen stroke. There were times I tried to warn you, to flee from you for your own good. Daydream can't coexist with nightmare. I knew better. We fuck, we howl and we hunt. A part of me hopes, that you know how to run.

Panic Attack Poetry Theater

Something I wrote while actually having a severe panic attack. I'm amazingly functional in my almost constant state of panic.

Her brain is not rage, but a quilt made of fear.

It doesn't make sense and it does make sense.

He wants to save her.

He tries.

He picks at the stitching, makes holes for her to breathe.

It works, until she suffocates again.

One day her heart will burst and fade.

She will drown him in her soul.

A Very Zombie Valentine's Day

Acceptance, it's a hard thing to find in this world. Our friendship worked. I needed a confidant, a non judgmental companion. You needed sociopath who could rip the heart out of a zombies chest in two seconds flat. The natural attraction between male and female lingered. Yet, neither of us wanted mess up the core of our friendship despite the worlds apocalyptic state. We took up with religious nuts, new pilgrims amidst death. Not because we agreed with their cloying theology. They were simply human and that was rare. They didn't like us. But, it was hard to ignore a bitch with a Hello Kitty Ak-47 and her male sidekick. I provided protection, you came with the package. Thus, we were allowed to stay. I had hoped you could find someone to drag down into the cesspool of your desires. I hated that you were lonely, in need. I knew a killing machine could never provide the things you wanted. The pious were not so easily swayed. Machiavellian wheels turned. You teased me when I started the book club. I let you believe I had taken in interest in Oprah Winfrey's taste in literature. The fact that I had torched the zombie cunt with a flame thrower for attempting to eat Liam Neeson was somehow lost on you. I found a house with electricity and that pleased you. You knew you were receiving a gift. You were puzzled to find out the bag of Orville Redenbacher I had popped was not your intended present. This now archaic delight was mine alone. With a smirk, I revealed my book club, naked, gagged and bound. A flogger and a set of knives, was the only explanation you needed. Ak-47 in hand, I settled by the window. This Valentines was to be a special day not to be sullied by any shambling corpse. You had watched me behead, torch and obliterate hearts in a shower of bullets with quiet awe. I found your sexuality just as fascinating. I ate my popcorn and watched absorbed. When betrayed eyes met mine and a trembling ungagged voice begged to know "Why?" I felt no need to divulge the truth to these so called literates. How could I explain the importance of true friendship? Instead, I coldly backhanded her and replied "Because you made me read Tuesdays with Morrie you fucking bitch!" Sociopaths hate that touchy feely shit!

The Messenger

The moment she breathed, black birds of every kind filled the sky. Her every step was haunted by rook, raven and crow. The wizard seduced her like a dream, beheading her the moment his flesh parted hers. In that act he trapped her in torture. She became pain immortal, never to know pleasure. She lived as his slave, his messenger, carrying her severed head in her arms. Until one day their inky forms blotted out the sun. She closed her blue eyes and thanked them for their mercy. Carried by feathered wing they froze her soul in the wastelands. As their claws released she shattered. Her body transformed into glistening particles of ice drifting towards the glowing sunlight of oblivion.

Surviving the Apocalypse

A tumble weed drifts past. I'm chasing motes of dust that dance in the light.

I'm waiting for you.

All of you.

I'm watching you say you're busy. I hope it's true.

I do believe you.

Although, sometimes I don't.

I just can't fathom such a life.

I'm sitting in an empty living room.

I'm watching the clock tick. Trying to stay busy. Trying not to go mad.

I'm drifting in this apocalyptic dream in a bed of holly.

And I'm waiting for you.

There's some secret world out there I'm not apart of.

I suspect it can only be true. Christmas, New Years, Thanksgiving.

It's out there waiting for you.

But, not for me. I just can't make it happen. Even though I try.

All I have is time. It does not pass quickly.

I can only wait.

And I'm waiting for you.

My email box becomes mostly empty. An occasional short note flows in.

Other forms of contact dwindle.

I try to tell myself I haven't lost what little I had.

I try not to run. Fuck, I want to run. I want to run from the waiting, the wondering and fear.

I want my thoughts to shut off. Let silent music flow in.

Then you all come back and I forget why I ever thought running was a good idea.

I wait with a painted smile.

Sometimes, I believe it, even feel it.

I'm even happy sometimes.

Then, I want to go to sleep. Shut my eyes on this empty life.

Simply not wake up.

I ache for nonexistence.

But, I'd never do anything.

I'm a coward.

I'm trying to find my way out. Trying to find what ever it is you have.

It drains me. I almost can't take it.

What comes so easily to you. Makes me so tired.

I hurt inside trying, but I am trying.

And I know it's almost over. One more holiday to go.

Then the still life painting will shift and glitter again.

Until then I'm wrecked upon the shore.

And with a smile. I make the best of it.

And I wait for you.

50 Things That Would Look Interesting Flying Through The Air

1) The Borg Queen

2) Various Borgs (Makes perfect sense after number 1)

3) Basket full of assorted lotions

4) A Bus, with passengers

5) A tank

6) Donkeys

7) Show Cat Breeders

8) 1 million unused silicone breast implants

9) Naked men with backs turned so you just see them from behind

10) 43 Yoplait Yogurts, full with lids open

11) Wilford Brimley and Jamie Lee Curtis having a deep conversation about Nerf products

12) Bean bag chairs of assorted colors

13) Scissors, lots and lots of sharp, pointy, dangerous scissors

14) A burning tire yard

15) Fiberglass insulation cut into Lucky Charms Marshmallow Shapes

16) A solitary jalapeño pepper topped with melted cheddar cheese.

17) Lit scented candles

18) Rush Limbaugh fans riding Dolphins

19) Feathered masks

20) Locusts wearing tiny hats

21) Al Gore meditating on top of a spinning globe

22) Sandcastles in a perfect V formation

23) Darth Vader in a Tutu

24) 14 Tiny ponies with waffles on their heads

25) Lions feverishly using their claws to make lemon zest (it's raining lemon zest bitches!)

26) Riding lawnmower

27) Prince, shakin it with bags of cheetos in both hands

28) Assorted terriers and a man who is enjoying their company far too much

29) Clear heels!

30) Potpourri sachets

31) Toast

32) A woman covered in buttered toast (like the borg a natural conclusion after the last)

33) A carved pumpkin filled with white ferrets

34) Chainsaws and linoleum floor squares

35) Pumice stones with signs of the zodiac printed on their surface

36) Wolverines and they are pissed!

37) Leather work gloves

38) A unicorn that poops ice cream and also eats nothing but ice cream, but hopefully not the ice cream it poops out. That would be mercilessly redundant

39) Satanists that only listen to the music of Morrisey.

40) Corn in all it's many forms

41) Dollops of crème fraiche adorning the works of Leo Tolstoy

42) Scaffolding

43) Minivans recklessly driven by border collies

45) Lilac washcloths folded neatly with little mints on top

46) AT-AT walkers

47) A clothes line with clothes and undergarments pinned on

48) A bathtub full of vegeteble soup (Sade music plays)

49) Infinite tubes of lube and 1 pizza

50) Alex Trebec cooking bacon in heart bedecked underwear while Klingons watch hungrily

Offensive Christmas Crap- 100 word flash

I just wasn't feeling the Christmas spirit, so I tried to amend that. Watching you turn blue, choking on your own severed cock, I can't help but feel I went wrong somewhere. Your struggles, the changing hue of your face, all very festive. Merry even. I know your eventual pallor will remind me of fallen snow. I drink the smoothie I made from our unborn child. The tender hollow that is my stomach helps me think. Bored of your thrashing my eyes shift to our tree. Then, it hits me. I put way too much tinsel on.