A boy’s last kiss to show he is still there
A man’s last drink to swallow his dreams and fear
A boy’s smile on an ever-growing face
A man’s ill-content grumble and a fermented taste
A door swung open
A rattle of car keys
Two engines starting
A boy’s last words to show affection
A man’s last gulp and right foot leaned forward
A boy’s lost look of fear
A man’s lost care
A boy’s hospital high above
A man’s tombstone not to move
A boy’s slow breath
A man’s death
A boy’s subconscious awakening
A man’s lack of movement
A boy’s sight of raining tears
The wet mud
A boy’s jump for freedom
The movement of decomposition
A boy’s car, new again
The years
The choice of revenge, or acceptance
The broken bottle
The first breath after coma
No breath after death

Angel, angel what have I done?
I’ve faced the quakes the wind, the fire
I’ve conquered country, crown, and throne
Why can’t I cross this river?

This river is no river but a wall
with your mind in control
You, with no sympathy shall not stand tall
so look deep in your soul
and find all your wrong
…and this wall shall fall to your song.

Bullets littered the black pavement. Each clip for each man. Groups who did not see eye to eye, has made this once respectable street a storm of misunderstanding. A worn car outfitted for the mission at hand skid to a stop. The ruthness confrontation waged forward, caught a a brutal stalemate. The men and guns forced a futile attempt to charge in. Soon the streets became littered with the organs of loyalty. Only hours later, the winds whipered stories of total loss for all. Mill and Main was left with decomposition, and a car. Rusting over time.

John Carr was his name. He found himself on the corner of Mill and Main, a very respectable road for the area. He climbed over a rusted car eroding over time to see a gun fire to a yound woman and her baby sprawled in road. John walked to the man, their eyes still violently shaking from adrenaline. The two men prepared themselves with the smoking gun. John, defensless, undressed all he had until his bare bones carved the air. He rested his knees on the black pavement riddled with history, and prayed. John Carr’s splattered blood touched the babies’ hand.

I stare at her. Her wrinkles, her hand, and even what you may call clothes. I see her two twins. their bowl cut dreadfully ragged. The boy's faces i do not see, for they are cuddled in the safety that mother tries to provide. i grow curious for their true faces and what they have become over the years. i look at their situation. i look again at mother. i do not focus on the wrinkles, or the hand, but the feeling in her eyes that is holding back. she never wanted this for the kids. she never wanted this at all. her eyes are strong and powerful, but weakened from grief and remorse. i look down to her left hand. it is covered by a baby boy splattered with the dirt they call home, but no tears. in the edge of my sight, i see a log. just a log. i look one more time at their situation. i grow fond of her hand, the way it is placed on the face, the feeling, and pressure made on the stressed body. was her hand cold? was this hand support in a time of need?

This dream is engrained
Every detail and movement
I see her and I cower at the thought
Why did i dream that?
Why did i think of her?
I barely know her.
This dream gives me pain
I never want that
I will never tell about my nightmare
this torturous thought
this heart ripping, souless idea.

Chapter 1

Gloomy day  that day. Even the bugs had a depression hit, and crawled into their holes and webs to bout over their small and meager lives. The roads were wet from the air, and my P.O.S. van scratched out the traffic. This day was not one for living. It was a gloomy day today. I walked from my car to my school with music in one ear. The music gave the fog a surreal atmosphere, and it added more as I overheard someone complaining about the weather and how its shockingly close comparison to a human could not make up its mind. I walked down the stairs, and in the break of the fog, I saw my beautiful girlfriend standing, waiting for me. I performed my routine to show my love. A kiss, a hug, and so on. She only stood there. It took me this far to realize something was wrong. This has only happened a few times before, and each time I had a whole flock of crows explode from unrest and bounce about in my stomach, trying to find an exit. I had this fear about these that she would say the dreaded words and end the relationship. They mostly came around as family problems or a death in the family, and the best cure is some tea and chocolate. This time around, I had only a few black crows seem to find their way in me, and I was ready for to hear all her mom’s rage towards her. One hand on her back, I asked. And even with so much strength do get ready  for the moment, I was not. She jabbed at my stomach, exciting the crows even more. She hammered at my knees, and drilled into my skull, sending her coarse little message deeper into my mind. With nothing else to take in, my brain ****** in each piece of the sentence, detailing the voice over and over in my head. With one last blunt blow in her apology for the pain she sent me, she walked away to float about in the emptiness that she gave me.
    Before this moment, I would look around and be reminded of everything she was and how she meant to me. I guess this was just in the second nature of my mind, and no pain ever came from thinking about her so thoroughly, until this moment.
    I have only felt two different ways of pain; The one universally obvious and real that you can revisit every part of a moment and break it down into colors and textures. We all feel this, and avoid the feeling the second time, or the third, until there is no life left, and you pass aways of natural causes or not so unnatural. That is where the second one comes in. This feeling has no explanation or details. My theory is that of suicide. When someone dies when they should not have, there is an emptiness in everyone they met and will meet. That means there are thousands of people who’s lives you needed to change, but you didn't, because you were to busy dead. I’m sorry, I’m feeling a bit down lately, for the obvious reasons. I didn't mean to take it out on you.
    Chapter 2

    Are you hungry? I’m a bit hungry, I’ve had almost nothing to eat for a while now. I guess that is what happens to you when you don’t eat for a couple of days. I am not in the mood for anything stuffing. That’s the problem with food around here. We have-how may “non-greasy” choices do we have around here?. I want some ****** sushi. It just doesn't stuff you like other foods. Are you hungry? Oh, well of of course you aren’t, you’re a-, well I guess I shouldn’t assume. Are you hungry? Fine, story it is.
   The first day after the moment seemed to drag on for weeks. I would look around and see the dark blue of the lockers around me pierce the fog that seemed to follow me. It was not a cloud to rain down and symbolize my sorrows, or mist to precede the looming monster that lurks in these swamps. This was a dense fog with the only intention to consume me. People would quickly walk past in fear of this fog, and simply pass a glimpse on the