1
1 0 1

cleansed

what is the difference
between rainfall
and a shower?
both are meant
to cleanse the filth.
perhaps we are only willing
to be clean on terms
of our own control.

1
0 0 0

A Kiss To End It All (novel exceprt)

 

            I dreamt of her last night. It seems so long since I’ve felt her touch against my skin. Since her lips have met mine. How long has it been since I could taste the sweetness of her breath? Four hundred seventy-eight days. I’ve almost forgotten what she feels like. The only thing of her I have is her scent. The perfume she wears everyday without fail, or the scent of what remains since we’ve last bathed. Every instance that I catch a whiff of that fragrance is a moment in heaven and an eternity in hell. To always be so near to the one you love the most, and yet never be able to touch her, to feel her. It’s torture; and it’s every day. It’s not as though I’ve not felt the warmth of a woman in this time. As I said before, we must try to repopulate this world, for the sake of humanity’s survival. But, mere reproduction doesn’t compare to the experience of the passion one experiences when in that moment with the one you love. There’s something intensely ephemeral, and yet subtly eternal in it. And I’ll never be able to experience it myself, not in reality. But, at least she’s here, and I know she is safely in my care. I may not be able to touch her; but, I can be sure nothing ever harms her. I love her…

            On the brighter side, to acknowledge that I did indeed dream, means that I am awake, and that I have survived yet another night. Another trial. Another triumph. We were also fortunate enough to obtain three ornate revolvers locked in the safety deposit boxes. That’s the beauty of being in a rural town, weapons were some of these people’s most prized possessions. I’d never had to fire a gun before the world fell to shambles; but, I can assure you that I learned quickly.

            The night seems to have passed without any significance. We ate. We slept. We woke. To some this may seem utterly banal. Nights like those are the ones we live for. Throughout our group, the ragged edges of our minds seem to be more relaxed, clearer, more focused. It’s quite the wonder what five hours of sleep can do after so many nights with just two. Even better still, the sun has shown itself for the first time in over a month. Perhaps, this could be a good day…of course, I had that kind of outlook before I went to the mall, and that trip turned into hell for me.                                                                                                                            

1
1 0 1

I've Forgotten Flowers

 

Scents used to tickle the nerves
residing in this nasal cavity;
now, it seems that all that lives there
is a cavity, dulled to the splendor
of  Flora’s careful  handiwork,
her scratch ‘n’ sniff tapestry
swept away by the winds of Favonius.
The marriage of fragrance to my sensory
has long since been annulled by a
higher power—
higher functions deeming petals too
delicate to endure the affront
of a hard logical approach,
too yielding to stand against
the rigid structures that have
usurped their former reign.
Even with pistols, they could not
hold up a shadow of a thought
or a makeshift memory.
They’ve been lost to barrenness
of what my world has become,
a reflection of my mindscape
and the harshness it has adapted.

I’ve forgotten flowers
and now struggle to weave them
into the braids of my words.

1
4 0 4

dust

 

dust,

dirt and dead skin cells

coating the surface of

anything and everything,

easily wiped away

with the swipe of a finger.

 

why then,

can i not remove you?

why are you still stuck on me?

have i not tried wiping you away?

have i not spent hours

upon hours under scalding water

with blistering steam

trying to scrub the traces of you

off of my skin?

my skin is run raw,

washed of color; but not of you.

you are painted;

no, plastered;

no, you are cemented onto my flesh.

all that is left of you

is dirt and dead skin cells,

dust.

 

why can't i be wiped free of you?

2
5 0 5

the good fight

 

people fight

for their ideas,

for their values,

for their honor,

for their families,

and for their nations.

 

others also fight;

but, they fight

for their next breath.

1
13 0 13

goods

 

this life is a pawn shop.

we all bring ourselves to

the table, showing off

that which we feel makes us

most valuable.

we're all a little bit

beat up and used,

but none of us really believe

that we've lost all our value.

this life is all about

trying to determine

who agrees enough to

buy into us.