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Apr 2014 · 2.6k
The Fraud
Sam Toil Apr 2014
a hallway.  offices.  tinted sunlight.  
people who have forgotten my name.  
but i am here.  
and then a room.  and a meeting.  
and i am unprepared.  
“you’re up”  says the leader.  
and my lungs fill with heaviness as they all turn towards me.  
my mind screams.  
my throat locks.  

and then a word fights through the scream.  
and i breathe.  and find a voice.  
and then another word.  
and a thought.  
then relevance.  
i am moving.  
and eyes do not wander.  
but the scream fights on:  
they will find out.  

i was connected at one time.  
so the scream would fade.  
but not now.  
these many years later.  
“we could use you again,”  
he had said.  
and i had relented.  
but why?  boredom?  faith?  
the scream of fear vs. the scream of isolation?  
or a familiar voice dragging me back from madness.  
“what have you been up to?”  
he had asked.  
and i had lied.  
and now my mind all scrambled between work and stupor.  

“what on EARTH are you talking about?!”
demands the one who should have taken over for me.  
and the throat locks again.  
and the scream rises up.  
and he knows it.  
but sympathy has no place here.  
so i struggle with the scream.
and find the words to hide the Fraud  
as he shakes his head in disgust.  

and i remember why i left.  
so i wade in the scream until i am done and take my seat.  
and the scream that never dies whispers, “what else is there?”
Apr 2014 · 1.4k
A Jading
Sam Toil Apr 2014
the smell wafted like a dream.
charred wood and red smoke.
“benjie!” she yelled
as i ran away down the hall
raising my arm against the flickering heat.
“benjie, come back!” she pleaded. “leave him alone!”
i stopped
and coughed.
hot air rushed across my face.
hearing nothing but the roaring smoke
i froze-up --
torn for the first time
between Comfort and Knowledge.

then slowly
out of the choking haze
came a whimper
and a scrape.
and a punch shook the wall.
i peeked inside the sizzling arch.
hot pitch oozed
from an overhead beam
caught fire
and dripped tiny flamelets
onto the hardwood floor.
he was there alright.
shaking  
and sitting on the floor in the corner.
i whispered:
“what’s the matter daddy?”
he looked up
through crazed eyes of fire and hate.
“go away boy”.
then he cried
and hugged his knees.

— The End —