If I lose my mind please look for it. If you find it I will know.
I walked past gibbering madness, blank stares, hollow shells of men, and found the girl huddled in the corner. My diplomatic offer of flowers was met with a scream, a recoil, and a whisper: “They’re still alive, and I can hear their dying screams…”
His superpower is standing up. Mine is sitting on the floor.
She threw the old man’s ring into the weeds of the vacant lot, as her father cursed in Italian in the background. She would marry whom she chose.
I begin tucking him into bed and he tells me, “Daddy check for monsters under my bed.” I look underneath for his amusement and see him, another him, under the bed, staring back at me quivering and whispering, “Daddy there’s somebody on my bed.”
I wanted a banana for lunch, so I could cut it up and eat it. When I finally got the courage to do so, all bananas seemed to have lost any resemblance of a banana.
She craves real stories. Nothing you can give her is close to reality, so she craves real stories.
One moonlit evening, Jacob kept his eyes on the road and smiled a Cheshire-cat grin; as he concentrated on driving, Vivian concentrated on driving her tongue along the highway of his neck—kissing it, flicking it, nibbling on it—her journey continued around the curve of his ear. Vivian cradled his unresponsive hand in the ICU and whispered, “My God, what have I done?”
We headed back into the world; our self-imposed exile left us feeling blind as moles and numb to feeling, like amoebas, single-celled organisms, unable to comprehend what it means to be something.
It was a piteous way to return.
The silence was tangible.
The town slept under the glow of the moon and owls sang lullabies to the trees.
He fell to his knees and they cracked under his weight.
Above him the sky burned on.
I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and fried an egg. I overcooked it.
We fall asleep in each other’s arms, bound tightly as a name to a familiar face.
Why is it, then, when I wake, I lay teetering on the edge of bed like a prisoner on a cliff?
Breeze filtered through her hair, she fed the grass with her weeping. Now she’s gone, but the grass is still greenest at that spot.
The chartreuse noose that hung from the gnarled spruce grew tight ‘round the neck of the obtuse moose.
His imminent mortality led him to deduce that alcohol abuse was no excuse to seduce the farmer’s wife.
If I’d have known the first step out of my house would be the first step into my life, I’d have left years ago.
“You’re gonna go to hell for this” said the Deputy, he spat on the ground wiping the the brown spit trail off his lips with the back of his hand.
“Ya’ll first” said the Outlaw, he cocked the hammer on his Smith and Wesson and advanced on the kneeling Sheriff.
“I’d fancy a Blackened Horseradish Crusted Hawaiian Swordfish, a slice of Caramel Tiramisu, and a nice bottle of sherry to wash it all down,” Roger said.
“Alright, right after the government provides me amnesty for my student loans,” Michael responded as he opened the dumpster lid.
“Aw, man,” he drawled, “come on, now, we should probably have sex to break the tension.”
“You’re a mess and probably unstable,” she said, “so I can’t have sex with you until, like, Wednesday.”
She thought it would be cute to start a pillow fight.
Finally my habit of sleeping on a burlap bag full of BBs is paying off.