charlie-chirico
Echo
29 / M / American
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148
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A Blushing Brush
*Muse For Hire!* / Step up, form a line, take my hand / and explain a smile. Kiss my neck as I grasp a pen and scribble a word. Let my eyes open to see a world, where you've existed well before the given chance of becoming an afterthought consumes me enough to hark your dimensions, mark my words.
8
Sep 9, 2015
Account For Being Tired
What I do take, / makes tomorrow. / Goodbyes, do not happen,
30
Jul 28, 2012
A Dead Horse Named Ten Word Poem
The popularity of ten word poems / is more frustrating than the excessive use of exclamation points. Vonnegut may have thought of semicolons to be transvestites, but a readily available exclamation is the patron at a restaurant asking which farm the free range eggs have come from. To which you respond politely, while pinching your thigh. And the ten word poem is far beyond the measure of either punctuation. Those ten words are the publicly shared suicide note, crying for help, and seeking validation in the form of a digital thumbs up.
2
Jun 22, 2015
A Jar
The body goes through changes. / The mind grows. / Eventually goes.
24
Apr 23, 2012
A Letter Too Late (2011 Short Story)
No one in town knew his name. Generations have passed on, but he was still there. All they knew was the little house on the corner of Brindmore Street. It was a house covered by nature, once thought to be inhabited, but that was far from the truth. Edward Trake lived there; alone and delusional Edward was becoming claustrophobic. / He was now eighty-nine-years-old and had been a resident of the town More for eighty of those years. He worked in More, got married in More, settled in More, but never had children in More. His name would eventually die out, just like his marriage did when his wife Linda knew he was sterile. He forgave her after some time and heartache, but always thought of how things could have been different if he was able to conceive a child. He loved Linda; they got engaged and talked about children, both fond of a family life. After two years of trying they both decided to see a doctor and fix any potential problem. Linda was in full health and in her prime, Edward however was not. He was told he could not produce a child. A month later Linda left. / Linda eventually re-married and had the kids her and Edward had dreamed about. And although Edward was not the man to deliver Linda’s wants he became another father figure in her children’s lives. He became Uncle Edward and was involved in their lives as he would have been if they were his children. The only problem was that they weren’t his children. He was glad to be apart of their lives, but to him it felt like owning a house and sleeping outside. He had the convenience of being in their lives but nothing else. He could not help in their development, because at the end of the day he was just an outsider. Uncle or not he was nothing.
43
Sep 24, 2015
An Ode To Why You Can Go **** Yourself
*Through the day, / until the end, / I stare at you,
18
Jan 10, 2013
An Untold Higher Power
Today, I'm going to **** them with kindness. / I'll walk the streets with a skip in my step, / corners of my mouth arched, skin tough.
49
Nov 5, 2013
Apathy for the Author
When I said, "I write," / essentially what I meant is: / I wrote.
23
Mar 1, 2013
A Suicide Case Opens From the Back
My father told me / to **** myself. / Lacking like-mindedness,
26
May 21, 2017
Beats and Measures
*Why do you do the things you do* / You ask. / But I'm stuck
22
Mar 23, 2017
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