Someone once told me, if I were ever lonely, a book would be then my best friend.
And reading two or three simultaneously would feel like a party, squashing my solitude
and hopefully boosting my mood.

...AMP

"It's not that it was the worst
but it was very bad," the old
man said.
"I wasn't hanging but the noose
was so thick around my frail neck.
I was nine. And the
forest was
dark.
Night.
And holding me, they made my
old man dig a deep hole.
He did as they said
to buy my freedom.
They untied me then and
put the rope around my old man's
arms and legs
and threw him in the hole
and covered him up with dirt.
They didn't make me watch.
But I did.
I wanted to photograph their
faces with my eyes
to burn their smirks under my eyelids.
Well, the saddest thing about it all is
that they died, all of them were
caught and condemned to death
before I was old enough or strong
enough to hunt down and
**** them myself.
The greatest regret of my life.
The world, you see, has no true justice
It never had.
You see, young man, that's why I
can never be a child of God.
He wants us all to forgive.
I can't.
Don't want.
Will not.
Ever.
So instead of going to church
I pass out in bars like this one
It's been my favorite lately
And you're my only friend, young man.
You're the only one weird enough to
listen to this old, demented fool's stories."

"I'll always listen,"
I said.
"Here, how about another drink?"

"Another drink, sure. Thanks.
But I'm afraid you won't be
listening to these stories for long.
I'm going away, young man."

"Where?"

"Well, to court first
and then
definitely
to jail."

"To jail at your age?
What did you do?"

The old man smiled a toothless
smile. "Old as I am, I used to have
front teeth, you know? Well, the
reason I no longer have them...
I bit a child's ear off.
It was his face.
It reminded me of them. Belonged to the
same race. So I figured... you know,
maybe he was one of their descendants.
It was the least I could do. All
I could do...
I told you I'm crazy. I told
everyone."

"Yep, but I'm listening. I'm a
writer..."

"Really?"

"No, but I try to be. Want to."

"Heh, guess we're both crazy
after all. Cheers."

he downs the second bottle
of wine
and then curses the
beer for not
tasting as good

the rectangular desk before
him looks round
now
and his chair grows wheels

all the insects in the
apartment
crawl under the
clock on the wall
and spin the hands
backwards

lots of things are happening
but the
story before him doesn't
write itself
The paper is still pale
the pen
still frozen
The next word will never come
out
let alone the next line

He leans back
and the demon calls from
the other side of the window
and tells him
to hurry up

"That's not how
writing works," he whispers back

But he doesn't
know how
it works anymore

So he just stands
and walks to
the window
opens it
and answers
the call

4779 digital pages filled
with ramblings
about feelings

thousands of
grammar and
spelling mistakes

a broken heart
consuming itself

a final ‘goodbye’ that came
out of a lover’s mouth long ago
still echoing in the ears

a stadium-load of cockroaches
and rats partying
in the house

a mailbox chocking
on unpaid bills

her room a mass grave
of empty bottles
snowed with ash

no income

electricity about to
be cut off

and she’s still
writing

I had a dream
about the end of the world,
the apocalypse.
It was the last of our days,
the sky turned dark red,
a total sun eclipse.

Shattered buildings,
fallen power poles
shutting down all lights,
the air was full of heavy dust,
polluting our lungs
and raining were meteorites.

And even then,
the selfish little me
went to save nobody, my love.
No, I went to steal
the only precious thing
that we were running out of.

Time. The one
we took for granted,
such a foolish thing to do.
I stole your last seconds
so I could spent the end of times
in tight embrace with you.

I’m changing my name to Carlo
So wonderful things can bubble forth
From me as well in nonstop waves
That threaten to ever so sweetly drown
Those who’ve chosen to follow.
ljm

Pity the Easter Bunny
Vice President of Whimsey Land
Hero of Farmer’s gardens
Mentored by Santa Clause

Guardian of the fairies
That trade coins for teeth
And Proctor for the hoards of elves
That keep the world exciting.

Still owning all his lucky feet
Through cleverness and speed.
Nephew to Uncle Whitey
The Star of Underland

Pity the Easter Bunny
His ears are drooping down
His cotton tail has lost its fluff
And he’s too sad to hop.

Pass the pity towel around
To mop up all the tears.
His labor will go unrewarded
On a scale that’s not been seen before.

All those eggs to boil and dye
Chocolate selves to pose for
All those candy eggs to hide
Baskets to be woven.

All those chores have been checked off
All the preparations made
Everything is set to go
When a germ calls off the holIday

What do you do with Jelly Beans
Stacked up to the ceiling
How much sugar can a bunny eat
Before he’s diabetic.

Pity the Easter bunny
But stand six feet away
We all feel cheated for
The loss of Easter day.
ljm

The Bible story tells the flood
That cleansed a very sinful world
And saved the barest minimum.

God sent a rainbow promise saying
Water would not bring doom again
And fire would bring the end next time.

Wars created conflagrations
But the world survived, and evil grew.

Then forests burned across the planet
Leaving desolation in their wake.

But the people found a way
To build new castles on the ash
And again the evil was let to grow.

A tiny germ that can’t be seen
Did everything the fires could not;
Bested blizzards and tornados,
Seeped into the earthquake crack
And learned to travel on the wind.

The Bible should have warned us
It would be a fever, not a fire;
That when those trumpets finally sound
It will be to call the cleaning crew
To come mop up what little’s left
          ljm