“If you seek revenge, dig two graves,” said Confucius. I only dug one, because they’ll never be able to pry my hands from his neck.
The demon was sticking its tongue at me, taunting and prodding, so I grabbed hold of his neck and strangled until his eyes bulged from his sockets and his tongue lolled, still and silent. Then it was just a baby and I wondered what happened to my meds.
As I aged, all my past-times faded grey.
When I hit the end and started youthening, they brightened again.
You died in my arms. I died in yours a hundred times.
The uncountable dead lay strewn about the Killing Fields, bearing oblivious witness to the dawn.
A lone figure surveyed his artwork in anguish, “What have I done?”
My answer to ‘What I Did This Summer Holidays’
Dad kicked the bucket.
Mum kicked it right back.
We are gathered here today to mourn little Jimmy.
He didn’t listen to his friends about girl germs.
When I buried your body in the garden I didn’t expect a tree to grow.
It’s a fruit tree that looks really awesome but the fruit is fucking disgusting (in case you’re wondering).
The fact everyone dies is the one thing that keeps me going.
I hear you chatter and I think … please you next.
As unofficial house-poet of a borderline accredited girl’s junior college, Schwaa U’u had committed many acts that would almost certainly have been considered socially unacceptable outside the confines of the ivory tower. Such was the charismatic seediness of his reputation, that when, following his death by mystery, it was found his entire body of work consisted of little more than a handful of largely inscrutable bits of esoterica, the legend of his eccentric genius was assured.
Without wealth my darling, little American girl quietly died
my private option
I was waiting for the bus.
Then it hit me!
Daniel sat on a grassy hillock overlooking the town and sighed contentedly, peacefully, as a lazy breeze caressed the grass around him. It was a good way to spend his last three minutes alive.
Time has the final word.
Usually it is “didn’t you know you only get one attempt?”
I drove past a car accident on the way back from Axedale today.
A car had tailgated me earlier and I had wished they would crash.
I didn’t say his death was “inevitable”.
I said it was “enviable”.
He heard them saying something about an accident and a time of death, as he lay there staring helplessly at a host of people, doctors and nurses he assumed, with masks on their faces and gloves on their hands.
As a noisy, whining machine was powered off above his head, and as the doctors and nurses walked away discussing what would be for lunch, he lay there, unable to move, breath, or even blink, trying to scream, “No wait, don’t go away!”
“You and your ethics, you can’t do it,” the Joker gurgled as he dangled over the side of the building.
“Fuck ethics,” Batman finally decided, and he let go.
I wonder how many miles I am from my future grave.
Is it here in Australia or on the other side of the world?