Empty
The drink sits in front of me. My school buddy lays lifeless on the floor in front of me. Is he dead? My mouth is filled with the taste of whisky and love mixed with blood and hate. These are just tastes, not feelings. As a matter of fact I’m swaggering too much to feel. There are stains on my shirt. I’m not sure when this ink stained the inside of my arm. I obviously went wrong somewhere in life, maybe I wasn’t given enough love as a child. I crawl over to the window and peer over the edge. I look the four stories down to the living breathing concrete hell. I fall backwards and lay on the carpet. It feels like linen but I know it’s covered in dust and vomit. I close my eyes knowing they wouldn’t open for a good while. They didn’t.
I awake in the hospital a few days later. I wish I could sleep that long all the time. Alcohol poisoning, who would’ve guessed. I turned my head slightly to the right and I noticed a stack of papers on a desk. Were they bills? Probably a stack of I.O.Us from some thief who took advantage of my drunken state. The nurse walked in, “Do you have anyone that is more attractive that can take your place:, I ask. She gives me one of the dirtiest looks I’ve ever seen. She fluffs my pillow and quickly leaves the room.
I think to myself, “Damn, I had a lot of fun getting me to the emptiest place on Earth.
Sweat
What could be better than this? A fire large enough to singe the hairs on the legs of God. Some of the strongest men on Earth surround me. Music playing out from crudely busted speakers. “If things get tedious, just throw some more wood on.” We are our own men. The only size that matters is in the fire.
Hours on and it’s still the same… our own little hellish heaven.
Hours later still… we open up into a tribe of our own, yes, still we are one and the same. The fire has gone down but the heat has not faded. Enter the cave. Nothing escapes this cave, not heat, not sweat, not time. The steam fills their lungs and their vision fades. Joined with the Earth. We are known as the virus that turned the world inside-out.
Angel Vision
The wings of snow are as pure as her eyes. Each freckle represents a life that has been or will be changed because she exists. The scars represent how she has been forsaken but soothing brown locks of hair stream down her back. When her eyes open, they can seduce a nation. When her eyes lie closed, they can soothe the most reckless of souls. Her skin gives a new meaning to sense.
Her lips can’t be explained away by words of any language. Her halo has rusted from the oceans she has rested in. Her voice awakens the most dormant of volcanoes.
Heaven must be worth it…
Humor
Who can even handle a joke? Poor humans. Lighten up. Are you burning alive?
Be happy.
