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ZorbatheGeek Dec 2014
and then one day you find
a soul you want to bind
someone who makes you feel
you birth was not unkind

the garden of bougainvillea
is made of pretty flowers
but her branches and thorns
keep out the lovers

all you can do is
just be mesmerized
seeing the bloom
waiting to be euthanized
Love Mar 2015
In response to: Please Don't Put Down Your Pen

You may live by drinking the words,
But I thrive on writing the words.
Perhaps "Please Don't Put Down Your Pen" was written in response to my works, but more than likely, it wasn't.
I live off of the written word.
It is my bread and my wine, my world away from the world.
But I have put down my pen.
Returned it to its rightful place,
The navy blue, leather coated, velvet sleeping place of my works.

I have put down my pen.
My pen has been put down.
Euthanized it.
Comatose in its leather casket.
Drifton A Way Jan 2014
Don't try to move
Just Be still
You must prove
It"s your will

Just be,
Quietly
Silently
Chill

No technology
No phones
No emails
No fax

Mythology
Bones
Trails
Relax

Thoughts flow through my head
like streams upon the riverbed
Constantly haunting me
Is it a plague or am I free

Wondering what it is I truly do seek
On this Hedonistic journey for pleasure
Once I finally reach the highest peak
Will I even care if there isn't any treasure

And even if there was, how much is really ever enough?
No matter how much was there I would still feel rough
The journey is over, but at least you can buy more stuff
Many toys to play with but your hands are tightly cuffed

Look a brand new thing to crave
How much money did you save?
I"ll take that secret to my grave
As a true consumer ridden slave

Everyone wants what they just can't have
Eyeing your neighbor"s prize like a vulture
Euphemise it veal instead of saying calve
Euthanized a deal, our throw away culture

I want more more more, that's mine not yours
So blessed to have our choice of each amenity
We"ve bore ourselves into consumer ******
So stressed when all we should seek is serenity
wandering
across
the splinters of
squandered
seasons
the Hajj
of the
lost ones
completes
a broken
circle

returning
with hope to
burrow back
into the safety
of desecrated
graveyards

welcomed
home to the
embrace of a
cadaverous cloak
and the kiss
of carrion
smudged lips,
Hajji's eye
the decrepit
visage of
criminal
depravity

germination
of this
Arab Spring
mocks us

aromas
of jasmine
elude us

emulsified
concrete
clogs our
nostrils

burning eyes
filled with
asbestos dust
form
grateful
blinders
to the
ruination
of reason
betrayed

arcane
remnants
of our life
lay inert
in the open
****** of
fractured
habitations

amidst
jumbled rubble
the decaying
carcasses of
razed buildings
boast grotesque
sculptures of
twisted rebar
cradling artifacts
of a past life

pink
hair curlers
splashed
with sickly
blood grown
mold

scavenged
bicycles
limp on
banished
parts

smashed
skulls of
dolls weep,
her
dismembered
limb reaches
for a lost child’s
nursing
hand

the charred
remains of a
Persian rug
maps the
scale
of a city’s
deconstruction
and a frayed
regions
disconsolation

electric luxury
flowing water
the friendly bustle
of the street
bespeak
expired memories
foretelling an
unimaginal future

sectarian strife
enforces  a communal
solitary confinement

in cold blood
we willingly
murdered
compassion

we
butchered
trust

we
euthanized
our
common
humanity

constructing
buildings is
easy

rebuilding
ourselves
impossible

Music Selection:
Segovia, Capricho Arabe

Oakland
5/13/14
jbm
please also see on Hello Poetry:
Homage to Homs
Leaving Homs
Maryam of Homs
Watching Homs
Wheres Rumi?
Taylor St Onge Mar 2016
After My Little Black Dog Died of Melanoma.
After the Lumps on Her Small Brittle Body Slowly
Burned to a Pile of Ash in the Vet’s Office.  After My Step-Father
Drove in His Ostentatious Truck to Pick Up Her Remains.  After I Cried
in My Dorm Room and Tried Not to Wake My Roommate.  
Realization that My Loss Does Not Make Me Different.  There Are
Graveyards That Span For Miles and They Are Filled With More
Dead Bodies Than I Have Ever Seen.  There Are Hundreds of
Thousands of Children in the Foster Care System That Have
Never Met Their Parents or Maybe They Did and it Just Didn’t Work Out.
Kids Who Might Have Lived With Their Terminally Ill Parent(s) For Years
Not Just Days.  Kids Who Never Sat in the Opened Up Trunk of Their
Mother’s Black Nissan Pathfinder at the Drive-In Movies.  Kids Who Lived Too Far From Their Too Old Grandparents or Who Lived Too Far From Their Too Dead Grandparents.  Kids Who Were Never Told Not to Throw Snowballs Because There Might be Big Chunks of Ice in Them.  Kids Who
Never Had a Childhood Dog to Cry Over.  Kids Who
Don’t Like to Read Because They Were Never Read
Bedtime Stories When They Were Younger.  Kids Whose
Mothers Never Called Them Tweetie or Pumpkin or Honey or ***.  
Kids That Were Not Told to Just Go to the Bathroom When
Their Tummies Hurt Instead of the Health Room.  Kids Who Never
Listened to the Spice Girls’ Album Spice World on Cassette on the
Way to the Store.  Kids Who Never Got a Peach Drink Out of a Vending Machine at the Pick’N’Save on 27th  Street and Still Don’t Know
Exactly What 50¢ Peach Drink Their Mother Bought For Them.  
There Are Thousands of Dogs Euthanized Each Day Because of
How Sick They Are or Because They Were at a Shelter For Far Too Long
or Because They Are a Pitbull or a Rottweiler or Some Other
Irrationally Feared and Disliked Dog Breed.  We Didn’t Euthanize My
Stage-Four-Cancer-Stricken Dog or Even Get Her Treatment Beyond
Pain Medicine Because We Were Selfish.  We Do a Lot of Things Because
We Are Selfish.  We Waited Five Days to Pull the Plug on My Vegetable
Mother Because We Were Waiting For a Miracle That We Knew Would
Never Happen Because She Stopped Breathing the Moment the
Aneurysm Burst.  My Sister is Getting Married in June and My
Grandfather is Going to Walk Her Down the Aisle in My Mother’s
Place.  My Grandparents Had to Move In With My Sister After My
Grandmother Fell Down Too Many Times and Didn’t Take Her Health
Problems Serious Enough.  There Are Repercussions For Thinking
You Are Safe When You Are Really Not.
Imitation poem of James Shea's "Haiku."  Written for my Advanced Poetry Workshop.
Gemini pen Jun 2020
Theme: "Laughter for  Breakfast"
A Duet by:
Bard Oluwateniola Adeniyi (Faderera)  
Fuad Opeyemi (Gemini)  

A free Verse Poetry
🚹🚺🚹🚺🚹🚺🚹🚺🚹🚺

Quite a yore,  when the snail crawl in the open
The birds fly,  oblivious of the stone
The heart so calm,
Not threatening to break out of the rib cage
Yore,  when we have peace as the housewife
And laughter for breakfast
💪Gemini💪

Days are gone, when we arise at the hissing of the vulture,
When we patiently wait for the owl to hunt silently at night,
Or joyfully await the folktales of the aged,
And enjoy the moment of moonlight chit chatting while playing 'ayo'
👊Faderera👊

The thunder might clash
Storm may roar,  
But the breeze of tranquil,
Still find its way to soothe the raging heart
Indeed,  laughter for breakfast
💪Gemini💪

When we assemble at the manor to celebrate our unity,
Wine and dine without fear of being poisoned,
When we dangle our waist to the rhythmic beats and get autem,
Or twerk our butts to the sound of the music and not get *****
👊Faderera👊

Days,  when the crop rose,
To kiss  the morning light
Plants welcome the dew with joy
Felicity is brought to us on a platter
And the heaven smile its grace down
💪Gemini💪

Gone is the time, when we fall to our knees or one's face to greet,
When we have eros love to opposite gender not same gender..
When we honour the church and respect it's doctrine,
When giving wasn't a problem and kindness wasn't scarce
👊Faderera👊

Time so long,  when smiles glint through the eye
Danger not friends with darkness
The chain of slavery,
Not tied to our neck,  living fully
In a house not haunted
💪Gemini💪

Long gone are the days, when the richest man is one with a shilling,
and a pence could earn quality education and utilities,
When feeding wasn't a life taking occupation
Or shelter a life threatening need
👊Faderera👊

Now,  lost to the feeling of nostalgia
Giving knife to demon of today
On knees,  begging to be euthanized
Oh,  long gone are this days
When we had Laughter for breakfast
💪Gemini💪

Now,a shilling amount to nothing; even a pence is worthless,
The leaders now dish out war and serve themselves peace,
Corruption is now added to the list on our menu,
Our food isn't complete without massacre,
Favour is now amounted to cruelty or being diabolical...
Alas! gone are the days when laughter was for breakfast
👊Faderera👊

©Oluwateniola Adeniyi™
©Pen of A true Gemini™

Do Rate this piece of Art 🎭 🎭
SG Holter May 2014
I had a few of my poems
Published in an Australian
Student project underground
Art-paper in '97.

One of my Melbourne High School
Teachers said he felt I had
One foot in Rumi's world,
The other in Bukowski's.

-
i could either be
a drunken genious
at the track
not winning
yet certainly
drinking
my health
borderline
euthanized
and writing to sustain it.
the magic and
honor in not
being an honored
magician.
-
But the sun-warmth within her palm
Makes everything she lays it upon
Feel as if kitten's belly-
Soft and as inviting to love as the
Newest-born infant on Earth
With her touch.
All is Day.
I need her too much to find sleep.
-
****. I do love them both.
Nevermore Jul 2014
It's during times like this
When I wonder about you.

It's been
What
Two years now
Since we euthanized this beast of a relationship
Stampeding and rampaging
Leaving contempt and devastation in its wake

All the people rejoiced.
Finally,
They said.
At long last
Our prayers have been answered.
Glory be.


You deserved better anyway
Than this ****
So dense
For all his wit
This stupid *****
She couldn't even think straight.
C'mon, let's drink
Play badminton
Hit the beach
Forget about this ******.


Barriers demolished by alcohol and fatigue
Bravado has long faded
Given way to sentiment.

**** inhibitions.
They're legally dead at this point.

I should be asleep by now
But my thoughts are with you.

I don't want you back
(I think we're well past that point already, don't you)
But I do miss you.
The way we used to talk
About anything and everything
Your quirky, subversive little philosophies
That you gleaned from the mindfucks of your day.

Sure
Your friends hate my guts,
I'm guessing.
My friends sure as hell hate yours.
'That *****', is how they refer to you
'That nasty ***** with the rotten *****', to be exact.

Still I sit and wonder,
How are you?

I'm doing much better now.
That job of mine that you dissed on a weekly basis
Well
I got a better job now.
Dated someone briefly
(A minute compared to our three years)
Before she broke my heart
And skipped away.
Got a PS3, too, finally.
(Still no Mass Effect, sorry.)
Cut my hair
But grew a goatee,
Lost those love handles you always laughed at
(Thanks to my striking and grappling coaches and cigarettes
And my all-too repulsive coworkers.)

Still chill.
Still writing.
Although I've abandoned prose
In favor of poetry.
Whodathunk, right?

But I'm happy.
I'm sure you are, too.
It just bums me, I guess
How two people so crazy about each other
Willing to die for one another
Turn their backs on their families
Could go on and become strangers
Just like that
After some tears and substance abuse
And be complete and happy apart from the other.

It's 3 AM
And my thoughts are with you.
They never left you.
Not when I have to speed past your hovel of a house
Every day on the way to work
(And not a day goes by when I don't entertain the thought
Of running into you around the neighborhood)
Without wondering
If you've finally patched things up with that ***** sister of yours
If your parents are still ****** as ever
If you still think of me
Like how I think of you.

You're still probably up
Reading strangers' blogs
Like how you first stumbled into mine,

Or coding
Trying to beat a deadline
For yet another insufferable client from hell.

Because I really did love you.
You were an answered prayer
(By Lucifer, my friends would sneer,
Before spitting and demanding another cigarette
Another round of beer.)
But I truly did.

I just hope that you truly did love me as well.
You're still an enigma.
Very much so,
As much as the day I first met you.

4 AM now
And my thoughts are still with you.
When would they ever
Get with the program
And leave you
Like how I left you

With a final cry of
Enough
And a stride surer than a lion
Walking ahead of its pride

Because it's getting old
Smiling at myself in the mirror
All too pleased with what I'm seeing
Without having to ignore the specter
Staring beside me
Judging silently

Enough.
我忘了 - 李玖哲
~
To my first love. (Admit it, this is hell of a lot better than drunk dialing.)
Arke Jun 2019
If we're together til death do us part
Then the only way out becomes suicide
Martin Prado Jun 2014
you keep me awake
eroding desire for learned things

the aching reality seeps
into the dinner i’ve yet learned
how to cook

TV,
numb the onset of a depression
bound to break me
as it already has to my family

a family intoxicated,
sitting staring submissive
to your sermon, the rippling pool
of sounds too stale to in and
exhale

I watch you indoctrinate
placid as a vegetable

like a euthanized dog
falling asleep I slide into
senselessnessbliss



oh

finally

my favorite show

the travel one I seldom see

take me to the places
I long for so much
LD Goodwin Jun 2013
National adopt a cat month is here,
It happens in June every year.
Go to your local animal shelter,
and pick up a cute little heart melter.

*12 million kittens/cats are euthanized each year. To find a shelter near you contact......
http://www.aspca.org/
Kodis Mar 2014
a shadow of a man, i am
to walk this earth thinking i am worth something
to think my soul has any value
when it has been proven that i am nothing but floating particles

what a cynic, i am
to believe i know the value of something
to put an investment in something so intimate
when it has been proven that i only knew the asking price

a blind man, i am
to see things the way they are
and not the way they ought to be

i pray for the quietest death
as i don't want to disturb others
a silence to the groans that come from my deep within
and a sigh as i release my final note

i wish for the quietest death
a euthanized extinction
my throat is raw from the mightiest of roars
my claws; dull at the tips

your love still rings in my ears
a torment I can never cease
i lay still, night after night
begging the invisible heavens, please;

somebody slip me the quietest death
nobody needs to know
i'd do anything to see you one last time
and kiss your lips before i go

i will lay still.
i will not make a sound.
i will be subdued.

i would die to never see you again.
Graff1980 Jan 2021
The revolution will not be televised,
unless it is being used to vilify,
or is being politicized
by those political guys
trying to score votes.
Any fair press will be silenced or brutalized
along with other protesters.
The leadership will be euthanized,
or demonized unless they can be
subdued quietly.

If you are under the illusion
that you can fight back physically
you must be mentally silly.
The cops got equipment
left over from the military
cause the war machine
wants to sell our government
the newest toys.

If our government has any say
they will find a way to lock away
anyone who might inspire change.
If you don’t believe me
just look and read
about Assata Shakur,
or Angela Y. Davis.

If you know or love anyone
who is out there trying to save us,
from the congressional and big business,
power hungry alliance
you better pray that they keep their defiance
just low key enough to slip the notice
of Law enforcement, or POTUS,
cause this country isn’t for us
and does not provide justice.
It is just a business that is made
to break and degrade
while the working class is enslaved.
Plain Jane Glory Jun 2013
I'm a young kind of broken
I don't break easily, but I break consistently

I haven't devoted half my life to a love
Only to watch it flicker and dissolve

I haven't drowned in bills I can't pay
Handing my dinner off to my better bits of DNA

I'm a young kind of broken

I break at the sight of documentaries
Hosting hate, disease and inhumanities

I break at hurting Grandmothers
Euthanized dogs and dead Grandfathers

I break consistently, a young kind of broken
Holding in my arms love, hope and humanity
But I can't handle it all, so I may let a piece drop out
Every once in a while
And when I bend to pick it up
They all come crashing down

I'm a young kind of broken
Broken all the same

All my broken elders:
Would you let me break with you?
Will you be there to help collect what remains?
Randy Johnson May 2015
Your son was injured and I'm as sorry as I can be.
But you had no right to **** a dog who wasn't guilty.
Your son was attacked and nearly killed by another Doberman.
You thought that it was my dog so you shot him with your gun.
But the guilty Doberman was caught two days ago and he was euthanized.
You killed an innocent dog and because of that, you ought to be chastised.
My dog wasn't just a pet, he was also my friend.
I cried as I buried him because it was the end.
If it wasn't for your son's predicament, I'd have you put in jail.
That's the only thing that's stopping me from having you locked in a cell.
If you shoot another innocent animal, I won't be so nice.
Before you shoot another animal, you'd better think twice.
This is a fictional poem.
stiletto quill Apr 2019
combustion was concealed
as flashes of despair,
created plaque throughout
bruising memories.

catastrophic events
euthanized rational thoughts,
as grinning cheeks sparkled
upon dawning drizzle.

dejavu sprinkled sunshine
on a fainting glow,
as the moon smiled in
devious nightmares. .

pergatory a permanent domain,
sleeplessly engaged with ghosts
haunting her final dormitory.

life embezzling imperfections,
death welcomed infectious diseases.

limbo remained faithful
between pulsating beats,
while inhaling peculiar oxygen
embezzled immortality.

pulsating heartbeat expired,
long before the coffin nail
unearthed its final target.
qu
Nirali Shah May 2014
I loathe definitions
Meaningless words
To describe something
Which means much more than those rambling letters
Trying so hard
To compete
And make their way
To someone's
Non-receptive ears..
To describe
Something so abstract
Without a designated word
A feeling placed on a pedestal
Ready to be either accepted or euthanized
Different than any other
Doesn't need words
It is independent
Doesn't need comfort
Of a single syllable
But yes
It  needs the reciprocity
Otherwise..
What does one do with orphaned feelings?
There is no orphanage
There are only graves
And someone to shed tears
May 21,2014
Lewis Bosworth Dec 2016
It all started with a wire recorder,
Skinny wire wound up on a plastic
Roller, in the basement bedroom of
His neighbor’s garage, very near
The place they euthanized a cat to
Learn about feline anatomy.

Fresh from his new job as an
Orderly at the VA hospital, and
Sure of his place as the savior of
Many a homeless alcoholic drifter,
Adam decided to start with a cat
So as not to practice without a license.

The recorder was a Christmas gift,
Since the young man had started to
Document the songs he learned in
His choir-school days in case he
Had to audition for a role in the
Church mini-pageant the next year.

Adam took pride in being able to
Reply in the affirmative to both
The questions his friends asked:
“Are you a scientist?” and “Are
You a singer?,” since the Nobels
Are being handed out oddly now.

Taping his notes was a necessity, as
His hands were always full of sheaves
Of music or carefully wrapped in
Latex gloves when he was armed with
Stainless steel surgical tools, and
Liable to get ****** dissecting.

On one occasion his much younger
Cousin happened in on the anatomical
Experiment and was sprayed with a
Rather morbid dose of formaldehyde
From the spot just under the tail,
Where he was standing.

Adam began to wonder whether this
Was the tip of the iceberg, or if he was
Merely fooling himself into recording
His results as the best way to gain
Entrance to the grad school of his
Choice, to join the other robots.

He wondered, too, if this was just
A little bit of a dream from faraway.
If the cat was simply a clue to the
Future, if in the entrails would be
Found dramatically bound in
Ribbon, the key to a music box.

And from this music box would
Spew forth a melody which Adam
Could redeem for a ticket away from
This basement laboratory and to
A candlelit stage floor where he
Would hear the sound of a single cello.

He believed in the things he always
Thought he knew, the things he had
Not memorized but had gut feelings
About, so in his beliefs could be no
Deceit, no surprise, no doubt.
Only wonderment and blind faith.

Black dots started to form on the
Ceiling, bells began to ring, soft
Crying in the distance became louder
As the ghost of the basement in the
Attic whispered in Adam’s ear:
“Your sleeping heart is awake!”


The whisper became a whistle, a
String of lights, then a fugue, then
The tick-tock of a clock, finally the
Sound of a fire’s breath in green
And gold murmuring over fake
Rattling radio waves.

Adam’s lab was transformed,
It became a lobby with a Steinway
But no player at the keys and no
Rolls hiding above them, only
A triptych playing the carols of a
Lone double bass leitmotif.

Adam felt blessed as he was called
Center stage by a maestro in white tie.
The podium’s glistening red and gold
Parament complemented his bright
Blue eyes in a pleasant way, as did
The strains of “Fantasia.”

Adam’s mom entered the room
Suddenly without knocking.  She
Handed him a letter from the ASPCA.
“I had to sign for this,” she whined.
“And get dressed.” she ordered, “Your
Choir rehearsal starts in an hour; hop
To it before your voice changes!”


© Lewis Bosworth, 12/2016
Leia R May 2017
i sympathize

i empathize

i want to be euthanized


l.r.
good luck to everyone. may the odds be ever in your favour

( i haven't even read or seen the hunger games )
Charlie Harman Sep 2016
Welcome* to the dragons den...

Nobody ever told me when I was born,
That there would be times when the place where I was welcome would fill with fire...
My mother was diagnosed with cancer when I was very young,
She passed away when I was nine...
My father blames me everyday, he calls me a curse

So now I believe that I am worth nothing...

When I was 13 my soon to be stepmom had a stroke,
She was euthanized no more than 2 months ago...
My father blames me everyday, he calls me a curse

I am sure of it now I was an accident...

Today was my birthday, My father called me an accident...

You have no idea dad...no idea...
For William
Levi Kips May 2015
The only patience we had for belibers was spent in a quick game of operation and listening to the music their god produced, who may I mention is the age of *******. Let me be clear Justin Beiber the death of your belibers was no accident actually it was a genocide. Our purpose was to take out your dooncoff belibers and believe us it worked since your here to see them go 6 feet under beneath us. Don't get jealous cause you're next, yes this is a eulogy but low key this is a meeting on taking you out. First we take out the army now we moving onto the commander slash general. we're going to assassinate you, my bad that implies you're famous, we're going to euthanize you put you down like a dog but its not going to be a one and done shot, naw, ima have more arms on stand by like a centipede using the 2nd admendment to the fullest extent of the law , my bullets will be hitting on you so much that you will think they was flirting with you just like start of your euthanized dooncoff belibers club.
the theme was. 1 five dollar word, then 2nd word a made up word, and 3rd word is a phrase you wish would die. now make a ulogy for that word and use the other 2 words to while doing it.
my drug myopia------my bitterness-----my sheltered life----like a harlequin----dancing a reel--then I'm camouflage-------a rotted tooth--
a euthanized dog-----the son of-a ***** -could do no good--- ..................
i see the fly on the wall-their brood found in stench-- so look away-- as I lie in ****--the sinner need savior-- pastor need flock---meat bounced from the back of a garbage truck--- ..........................
lonely-- impetigo----greasy--and willing----to slit my wrist -and risk no redemption----I'm the book you shut----kicking the ground--left to my own devices--- dead on the ground ...................
Copyright October 1 , 2015 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Micheal Wolf Apr 2016
Love doesn't fall apart as it ages
It isn't like a building but none the less needs maintenance
We often strangle it with expectation or smother its voice.
It isn't alive and yet we must feed it.
It has no conscience and yet we scold it with angry words.
It has no substance at all and yet can be poisoned.
There is no structure to it, no plan.
Though we treat it as a building, a temple or shrine.
It collapses without a sound but the screams are deafening.
When love is done it doesn't walk away like a wounded animal to die alone.
It is euthanized by some, executed by others but always killed by one.
So what of love, Is it real
Is it yours or mine or ours?
Is it stolen, loaned or cheated?
However you obtain it remember to nurture it or like any living thing...
It will die.
jordan Oct 2021
euthanized epiphanies
fluttering vacant thoughts
hope's expectation
breaks on waterfall rocks
creation of oblivion
averted sideways glance
stares of isolation
all is happenstance
Kiro Oct 11
The year is 2060.

When I was a kid the future was everything. All the films about flying cars by the year 2000 and cool toys and transportation. Lightning speed teleportation. Meanwhile the world freaked out at midnight thinking this new technology would end itself because we didn’t know if the computer knew what to do after 1999. We didn’t know if they could process. That’s how dumb we were. We were afraid a computer we created wouldn’t compute that 1 + 1999 = 2000 on a digital calendar. How ugly it was that our intelligence allowed these reindeer games, and for the first time, very publicly.

It happened to all of us. All of whose parents didn’t stay together, all of us who didn’t have enough money growing up, all of us who were afraid to say anything without being yelled at, all of us who needed to feel anything after a lifetime of never knowing the world before the internet.

We stole. We stole here and there from companies that didn’t support human rights. We stole from companies that had enough money but didn’t pay their workers enough. We stole food, clothes, art supplies so we could sustain being alive before technology took that, too. It was two decades of job losses, the worst homeless crisis anyone had seen. The real aftermath of a worldwide plague.

I spent my early 20s watching people I cared about die overnight or over the years. I watched them suffer mysterious ailments.

Public shame and fear turned us into one of those trending TV shows. We always said “how could that happen?” But it did. It was gradual, that’s why we didn’t notice it.

It started with fingerprints to unlock your phone, Face ID. It started with identifying ourselves before we knew who we were. It was the left. It was the right. It was the undecided. It was the world.

Door cameras to communicate.
Online groups sharing videos and stories of strangers.
Misinformation.

America armed Israel as America had always done out of guilt for turning away the boats of Jewish families begging for help from the US before WWII.  
The world begged for a ceasefire. Russia sent submarines to Cuba and no one noticed. America put their big show on to distract the world while they silently began the process.

We were all old now. We didn’t harm anyone physically. We just needed help while our country funded wars around the world so we did what we had to while we thought the government was occupied.

Elon Musk started buying television networks after social media. That’s when it really became locked in. And more billionaires followed the same. There was nothing we could do. Years went by. More and more people forgot what things were like. Advertisements were so subtle. Paying $30 to brush our teeth with dirt after a lifetime of baking soda, fluoride, and mint oil. It was so confusing.


There aren’t many of the generation that didn’t end their own lives left but after us the suicide rates did go down. They started putting a research chemical in the water. 2-oxo-pce. Trace amounts of it did bring up people’s spirits without triggering psychosis and by the time we found out no one really cared because they felt better.  It’s weird now to think it was a good idea. Sometimes I couldn’t figure out if I just finally gave up or the water made it easier to accept life as it was.  

When they came for me that must have been why I felt I deserved it.

They had it all on camera. They created AI to scan for repeating thefts. They counted the costs. We couldn’t trust AI to ban accounts promoting hate, but we trust it to recognize faces.

It was something we worried about initially but there were so many other things to consider in the world, it honestly didn’t seem as bad in comparison.

The trials were fast.  A split second snapshot of everything you took rapidly passing a screen with a print out of your debt. It wasn’t always you in the photos, though. There was no way to argue with the algorithm. It clocked me for a Mazarati. I don’t even drive.

Of course we didn’t have the money.  It was always an insane amount,  because the technology was a barracuda and we changed so much. You just had to accept it once they showed up.

Any crime committed, if documented, can be used at any time against you. Statute of limitations no longer existed.

Disease was everywhere and they needed a way to combat it faster. No ethics in science and progress. The public was worried and we were the morally corrupt past. Justice must be served. Didn’t matter if you killed someone or you stole 10,000 diapers. I just happened to be one of the people who couldn’t afford the things I wanted.  

They poisoned us. They infected us. They killed all the people in prison before they got to us but they learned so much doing that only a fourth of us died when it was our turn.

That’s pretty impressive.  

One day I was checking the mail and it felt like a month later every political leader transferred power or position. Everything lined up perfectly for a total control of the people in what they called saving humanity. Moral superiority won but for some reason it was always against the people who needed the most help. They’d find any reason to use your body and be able to rationalize it with a nation they instilled nothing but fear and helplessness into.

You never really made contact with anyone again. You spent your life with robots checking your blood, your vitals, feeding you, bathing you, drugging you, analyzing you, and keeping you alive as long as they could so somewhere in the world the results of testing could be shared to bring hope and promise for the next generations that cures could exist and that they were fortunate for our sacrifices.

The food was good. While we were shunned for petty crimes there was a large amount of money donated to keeping us comfortable. I think it was so the public would feel less guilty.

It was catered to what would extend our lives but still flavorful. Roasted chicken, low salt, lots of herbs and hearty greens. Fruit was always ripe. Healthy amount of nuts and seeds. Cheese once a week. We had endless access to literature and the news. Best medication. Gym equipment. It was like prison but you never left your room and you were taken care of. But you didn’t have love or ***. You didn’t feel anything anymore. Maybe it’s the water talking but it was kind of nice to not think for myself in some way. Realistically they didn’t really have a choice but to keep us well managed. We were going to be the last line of subjects. They had to keep us alive, the rest of the population didn’t do anything wrong.

The only comfort that could be taken in those boxes we lived in was knowing at least we died for something after a lifetime of watching senseless death from a screen. My body was used for science. I had a purpose. I committed crimes I needed to because I lived in a terrible world. The new world was better. It was kinder. I don’t hold it against the living. They only knew what they were told.

We were survivors when we were young, but by 65-70 you were something the new world couldn’t comprehend. Lack of morals. No respect for the law. They didn’t understand it was different back then.

Social media became learning platforms. There was no discourse. No name calling. They saw what was left behind and assumed there was no explanation other than we were just bad people and corporations had been working so hard to give them a livable future and maintain a habitable earth.

My generation was to be the last one that experienced the experiments. They did eventually find a cure for everything. Depression,  every flu, blood diseases, ***** failure, cancers. They didn’t use it for profit. It’s what I always wanted. We all wanted it. We wish we had it sooner.

But the day I died, humanely euthanized, something changed. The news was on. They found water on the moon last year, raving about how pure and untouched it was, and started transporting it back, and all the people who could afford it got sick with something we’ve never known before and I realized it didn’t matter what I did or didn’t do when I was young. I deserved to try moon water before I left, not them. That was the future I was promised.
Dessi Jul 2017
I'm seeing them.
And I am Immobilized!

I'm hearing them.
And I am Mortified!

I'm feeling them.
And I am Paralyzed!

I'm smelling them.
And I am Demoralized!

I'm touching them.
AND I AM EUTHANIZED.
Alisha Apr 2019
I think I should be the poster girl for suicide. Okay, wait listen, I promise that makes sense. There are a certain number of things that a person may show before the commit suicide. I should not hit as many as I do. Oops. There is a handy little guide that goes by IS PATH WARM, which, let’s be honest, is kinda a dumb acronym, but it does seem to be accurate. Once again. Oops. I is for ideation, which kinda means that I’ve been thinking about it. Now, no one else happens to be privy to my thoughts, so I’ll go ahead and let you know that that is a big old check. S is for substance abuse, now, I used to be straight-edged, but that was before I discovered how wonderful being high was. It feels like the biggest weight in the world has been lifted from my shoulders and I feel, well, normal. Another check. Oops. P is for purposefulness. That means that I don’t see a purpose to living. I don’t. Simple as that. Check. A is for anxiety. Every **** day is filled with what if what if what it, and I can’t see how anyone could love me or how anything can get better and what if what if what if I never become anything, or if I just fall off the radar of everything and what if what if what if I just do it, just let go. Check. T is for trapped. Trapped in life, trapped in routine, trapped in my mind, trapped like a rabid animal in a cage, set to be euthanized. There is no way to get better, there is no way to change, everything day in day out is the same. I wake up the same time, go to sleep the same time. Same job, same friend, same same same. Check, check, check. H is for hopelessness. Golly what it must feel like to have hope. To hope that things will get better and change. I gave up on hope a long time ago. What a silly thing hope is. Check. W is for withdraw. Once upon a time I could laugh and smile with my brother, once upon a time I could run to my father and he would catch me no question, once upon a time I could go to my mother with woes about weight and love and friends and life and and and now I can’t. I ruined those relationships. Pulled away because I could feel myself changing, becoming a darker, altered version of the sister and daughter they knew. They didn’t deserve to have to see that, to carry that burden. No, that burden is mine to worry about. Check again. A is for anger. I have been angry about so many things for so long. It ***** that I have to go through this, that my dad got sick, that my mom works every day and doesn’t ask for a thing in return, that all the friends I have ever had have left me, that people move on and pets die and the world keeps on turning even when I have stopped. I’m dizzy because everything and everyone is still moving and I, I am angry. Check. R is for recklessness. Have you ever walked across the busiest street you live by without checking the traffic, or hovered a little too far over the edge of your balcony, started a fight with someone you have no hope of beating, seeing how long you can stay underwater even though you let out your last breath a minute ago, done so many drugs you’ve forgotten what you even took, forgot what you were drinking three no four maybe it was five shots ago? I’d say I’m a little reckless. Check. M is for mood changes. This one is oh so simple. I used to be happy. Check.

— The End —