We were just boys. Trekking into the dense wood, we hadn't a care in the world. The rain began to fall.  Softly at first.  Our youthful tongues reached out and caught the delicate drops.  The rain fell harder - so hard it began to tear at our skin. The air became still.  The sounds of the forest ceased.  All was crystallized.  Then Hell struck.  Out of the sky, a brilliant bolt of lightning hit the tall elm to the right of us.  We all cowered in terror, knowing full well we needed to take cover, but there was none to be found. The sound was unbearable.  Trees exploded to the right and left of us, all accompanied with a ghostly white that enveloped everything around it.  I could hear Paul crying and I ran over to him.  I grabbed him by the shoulder so that we could take cover next to a large boulder.  We'd almost reached it when we were hit.  From the top of my head to the tips of my toes I felt a pain my young life had never experienced.  My shoes flew free as I was forced into a massive tree trunk.  My ears were ringing and dripping with blood.  I hurt everywhere.  Dazed, I ran over to  Paul.  He was on the ground.  He was convulsing and vomiting.  Not a regular *****.  His insides were escaping from his mouth.  Blackened whole pieces of lung flowed forth, steaming in the rain.  He became still and his skin turned a bluish hue.  It didn't even cross my mind that he would die.  I was only fourteen.

A cry from the dark.
A call for lost innocence.
Pull the ropes.
Taught and tight.
Come and see.
Come and see.

Glass upon glass.
Shattered and ground
Into a powder so fine
It will seep into his veins.
She takes special care not to cut herself as
She spreads the deadly dust upon his side of the bed.
He enters the room.
Sheds his clothes,
And gives her a kiss.
He tastes of Her.
He smells of Her.
Settling into bed, he turns off the light.
In the dark, she smiles.
You know what they say about a woman scorned?
They don't know the half of it.

Driving home on a Sunday night,
Streetlights are industrial fireflies.
Your gaze wanders,
But doesn't linger on me.
Instead, it fixes on the parade of yellow lines on the road,
Passing in rapid succession.
Our silence hurts, so I reach for the radio.
If this were a movie, it would be Our Song
We'd smile.
Talk it out.
Make up.
Kiss.
This isn't a movie, and it isn't Our Song.
We pull up to the drive and you open your door.
For a moment, I consider stopping you.
But I don't.
It's far too cold.
And my sweater is starting to fray.

I'll play the killer,
And you'll play the *****
We're all set on liquor.
Is that someone at the door?

He wants what's not his,
And she's just a drunken mess
Here we go, Earth Mother.
Let's put these flops to the test.

It's all part of the game.
There will be tears and ***** by the time that we're done.
It's a good thing we're both insane.
And in the end, we'll count our chips and we'll see who won.

I can't sleep at night,
So I'll go buy some melatonin.
I don't smile enough,
Another round of serotonin!

You've become so much more than a habit.
I am snubbed.
I am fiction.
I am the ******* Velveteen Rabbit.

He smiles a smile that shows no teeth,
as to conceal his bleeding gums.
Upon an altar of idolatry,
he waits for someone who will never come.
Scrawling in the darkness,
he writes of fathers and mathematics.
He writes of sons and sums.