“With grace and dignity” he said to himself.
After which he tripped and fell.
Last One on the Train
Terri almost dropped her iPod on the floor when she woke up on the train after missing her stop and when she looked around the compartment, the only person she saw was a skinny man in a dark suit who was sitting in a seat across from her waving.
Terri would have waved back but the man was covered in blood and his severed head was resting in his lap.
As the small girl of four asked me to leave, I cried for home. The girl disappeared without a trace; I was left alone, although, there was never anyone by my side.
Stangers and Darkness
After ingesting a cheap bottle of wine, I met her in the darkened alley and gave her twenty bucks, not caring about her identity or appearance. We made love behind a dumpster and since that night, darkness always tansmits the urge for an erection through my nerves even though the permanently placed catheter never responds.
Sleepless Dream
It came to me in a dream. I’ve regretted ever since that I wasn’t sleeping at the time; it never came again.
a Unixex
It was as hard to read him as a big jelly fish, one could only guess which of the two bathrooms he would choose to enter.
I only call him ‘he’ because of no lipstick and had short hair, loose jeans, glasses and tennis shoes, dressed all in blue, almost 30, neat and relaxed, he walked talked and was the shape of a unixex, don’t ask the configureation of that, but it’s neither an X or an O type.
Phone Book Names
Benjamine Harrison, Andrew Jackson, Harry Truman, Grover Cleaveland or Andrew Cleaveland, Benjamine Truman, Grover Harrison, Harry Jackson -are they everyday names in your phone book? Or are they signs of human possibilities?
The Human Realization
Time is a teeming river of mud and we fish in it while trying to breathe in a flavor of soil.
The human realization is that the prey we seek in the water is really all we have evewr been, we may someday realize we all have fins and gasp for oxygen, we are so far just the best swimmers, that can digest all our relative enemies.
Monster
I trapped the spider in a glass tumbler, the likes of which severed one of its legs, creating a grossly disfigured monster. But I look through the glass and see: the true monster is me.
Petty revenge
“I’m sorry about yesterday, let’s never fight again,” my husband tells me when he visits me in the hospital after the crash. What my husband doesn’t know, I took his car this morning.
“Where are you going?”, says the comedian. “To get a drink so you’ll be funnier”, says the audience.
The Beginning of the End
“In my dreams,” she whispered quietly, her voice already breaking with emotion, “I was happy.” She didn’t know what to do with her hands, and so they shook, caught between inaction and desperation.
Instrumental
Time flows through me like wind through a flute. So whatever pushes time, is playing me between its lips.
I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night. Ho Ho Ho!
Ugly box
Never again i’ll start waching that stupid ugly box. Just because i’ve bought myself a new one.
In the Lenin Hat
He got his Lenin hat in Moscow, his jeans at hospice downtown and his duck shirt off a clothes-line where the woman hung out a medium men’s with long sleeves to cover the tattoos, so he could get into the Christian Free Feed at the Methodist Church on Francis Bacon Street.
If he couldn’t bum 5 bucks by 6 this afternoon he would have to go to the holy-rollers church, and find a warm coat with fur inside, and he knew the closet where they hung while they danced, screamed and spoke in foreign languages, claiming to be the Holy Ghost, all the cold damn night.
LooneyToons
Lester was the guy who talks loud in public bathrooms, pretending he’s on a cell phone, “Yes it’s me, in London all week banging the blond bitch.
Hay I’m offerin 2 mil for the land, farm included, take it or leave it you mother-f, and you better not hang up.
The Running Girl
Anxious to share her news, she ran all the way home. When she saw what waited for her there, she ran away.
Doom’s Wordsmith
For his writing instruments, Marcus uses fountain pens made from black ivory and blessed by a witch doctor in New Guinea. He lances the blood from his very veins to provide these pens with the only kind of ink that appeases their hunger, lest something unfortunate happens to him.
Sexual Content
Sex is a word that was, or perhaps still is without bad meaning.
Only our filfthy minds refuzes to accept this simple truth.