Darkness is what the young boy awakened to.

It surrounded him making his fear rise

He began to cry out for his mother.

Silence is the only answer he got.

'Where's mama?' The boy thought

He scrambled to get up from his makeshift bed.

On the floor in the kitchen of their Chicago apartment is where they slept.

Always slept in the kitchen because mama said the demons wouldn't get them in the kitchen.

The boy listened in the dark for any sounds to indicate where his mother might be.

Hearing a faucet running from the bathroom sink.

Finding his way out of the kitchen he got out into the hall to find the bathroom light was on.

As he got closer he could hear his mom mumbling. "Mama?" The boy started to open the cracked door wider.

"Stay away boy! Boy. My boy Alek. Away. Go away. Evil beings with daggers say go. Go away." His mother was shrieking again.

He didn't like when his mom got this way. It was happening more and more.

She use to take him out to the park. Out to get get food.

She hadn't taken the boy out in days. He'd been having to go out by himself.

Asking for food from one of the neighbors.

There were papers getting slid under the door daily that read eviction notice.

He kept bringing them to his mom but she kept tearing them up.

He was really scared this time as he gazed at his mama where she crouched in the corner of their small bathroom.

Both the bathtub faucet and the sink faucet were on full blast.

Her hands were over her ears as she muttered about things that the boy couldn't comprehend.

Feeling scared and uncertain the boy went back to the kitchen and got under the blankets.

Covering his head and ears. Trying to block out the sounds coming from the bathroom.

Eventually everything became silent.

The silence bothered the boy more than anything.

Shaking, he arose once again and made his way to the bathroom.

He could hear the water still running, but his mom had gone silent.

Fear settled around the boy like a old friend, making his trembling worse.

He knew something wasn't right.

Nothing ever was right.

But now he knew for certain that something bad had happend.

Dread hung heavy in the air as the boy stepped into the cramped bathroom, his feet wet with water.

That was the first thing the young boy saw. It was gushing out of the tub.

Out of the sink. Running out of the tiled bathroom floor to the hall.

He rushed over to the bathtub to try and turn the nozzle off like he had seen his mama do before.

His tiny hand slipped at first, not able to firmly grasp the nozzle.

Eventually he grasped it and turned it till the faucet gave one last gurgle and drip before finally shutting off.

Then he ran over to the sink where he saw his mom's shirt was stuffed into the drain.

Preventing the water from going down. He removed it before shutting off the sink.

His mama had done this before. She always said the dark man wants the water. He never knew what she meant.

Couldn't understand the dark man was in her mind.

That she was in desperate need of help.

But nobody around these parts got help when it came to mental illness. Not if you didn't have any family.

And the woman only had her young son.

Who was currently crying and screaming at what he had found.

His mom crouched over in the corner, not making a sound

Bloodied wrists. A razor blade lay near.

Sickening to think that maybe if someone cared she could've gotten help

But that was not the Fate of the woman who only had her son.

Instead she took an out, leaving the young boy with no one.

PARTY ZONE WITH DAVE BROWN




DANCERS’   YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE MY ONLY SUNSHINE

YOU MAKE ME HAPPY WHEN SKIES ARE GRAY

I WILL NEVER KNOW DEAR, HOW MUCH I LOVE YA

YOU CAN NEVER TAKE MY SUNSHINE AWAY

OH YEAH DUDES ROCK AND ROLL

GET UP ON THE DANCEFLOOR AND TOUCH YOUR IMMORTAL SOULS

YEAH, MATE YEAH, YOU’LL LIVE FOREVER

IF YOU DON’T GET A FUCKEN WHITE ****** FEATHER

YEAH YOU ARE OUR PARTY DUDE, OUR ONLY PARTY DUDE

YOU MAKE US HAPPY, FOR BEING ALIVE

YOU’LL NEVER KNOW DEAR, HOW MUCH I CAN DRINK BEER

AS I TAKE YOUR COOL KID AWAY

DAVID’  WELCOME TO PARTY ZONE AND ON TODAY’S SHOW WE HAVE BERT ROBERTS

WITH HIS NEW SONG, TITLED YOU AND ME, DREAMING TO BE FREE, IN A CABBAGE PATCH GARDEN

AND NOW HERE IS SUE, BUDDY

SUE’  THANKS AND NOW, WE HAVE GEORGE AND HIS LITTLE JINGLE

GEORGE’  PARTY PARTY PARTY PARTY, I MEAN PARTY

IF YOUR WHOLE WORLD DEPENDED ON IT, YOU ****** PARTY

FIRST YOU GO INTO A NIGHTCLUB AND IF MATES DITCHED YOU, OH YEAH

JUST LOOK AT THEM AS LOSERS ANYWAY

PARTY PARTY PARTY PARTY I MEAN PARTY

PARTY IN EVERY NIGHT AND ****** DAY

YOU WILL NEVER KNOW DEAR, HOW MUCH I ENJOY PARTYING

JUST AS LONG AS YOU CAN BE SAFE, OH ****** YEAH

SUE’   THANKS GEORGE AND HERE IS JUDY

JUDY’   I AM 23 AND I LOVE TO PARTY, DOWN

AND MAKE OLD MISERY GUTSES FROWN

AS THEY ARE TRYING TO BE COOL

YA SEE I HAVE ALL THE FELLAS AROUND ME

I AM HAVING A WOW OF A TIME

AND THEN SOME KIND SIR BOUGHT ME A DRINK

WHICH WAS SODA AND LIME

COME ON OLD MISERY GUTSES , GET OFF YOUR CHAIR

AND NOT JUST TO DO HOUSEWORK, NO MATE NO

YOU HAVE TO GO TO THE CLUB, OH YEAH

AND DRINK YOURSELF SILLY

FOR I AM THE YOUNG DUDE

I WANNA PARTY DOWN

AND MAKE YOU OLD MISERY GUTSES FROWN

AND THAT IS WHAT I DO TEASE THE OLD MISERY GUTS

IN THE OLD MAN SITTING TRYING TO LEFT ALONE

HE SHOULD GET A LIFE, PARTYING, IS THE LAW OF THE LAND

I KNOW BRIAN ALLAN IS YOUR PARTY MAN

AND SO ARE YOU SUE AND DAVID AS WELL

SUE’ THANKS JUDY AND NOW HERE’S PATRICK

PATRICK’  WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT

NO WE’RE AIN’T GOING TO TAKE IT

WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE

YOU SEE I HAVE THE RIGHT TO MUCK AROUND DUDE

I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO COPE WITH YOUR BULLYING DUDE

SAYING, IF YOU DON’T MUCK WITH US, YOU DON’T BELONG

I SAID, I ONLY MUCK WITH REAL PARTY DUDES

AND I GO TO THE CLUB TO EAT A LOT OF FOOD

AND DADDY SAID, YOU ARE RUDE, YA FOOL, YA FOOL

WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT

OUR RULES WE WILL ****** BREAK IT

WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE

SUE’   THANKS PATRICK AND NOW HERE’S BRIAN


BRIAN’   DON’T MESS ME UP, OR I WILL DRAG YOU DOWN

YOU WANT TO EARN MONEY, I WILL TAKE IT FROM YOU

I GOT TO UNDERSTAND THAT POOR PEOPLE ARE PEOPLE TOO

AND AS I GET ON THE DANCEFLOOR, I DO THE BOOGALOO

AND I SAID IT’LL SCATTER MY BRAIN

AND DRIVE MY MIND TOTALLY INSANE

HEAVY METAL MUSIC, IS MY FORTAE, SO STOP TRYING TO BRING ME DOWN

SUE’  THANKS BRIAN, FOR SHOWING US THE POOR MAN’S PARTY, NOW HERE IS MARTIN

MARTIN’   WHAT A NIGHT WE ARE HASVING TONIGHT

***** AND SMOKES, ACTION A PLENTY

I WILL BUY THE WHOLE CLUB A DRINK

AND THAT WILL COST ME 5 INTO 20

MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE

I WANT TO DANCE TO 100 TUNES

I WANT TO DANCE TO 100 MORE

JUST TO BEAT 199 HOMEBODY’S WHO GO TO BED AT 7 PM

THEY SAY I AM LIKE A 2 YEAR OLD, BUT JUST TO THEM THOSE OLD MISERY GUTSES WHO LOVE TO FROWN

SUE’   OK BACK TO DAVID, THANKS MARTIN

DAVID’   HERE IS BERT ROBERTS, WITH HIS NEW SONG

BERT

I AM, ONLY 23, THE DAYS HAVE SEEMED SO LONG CAN’T YA SEE

I AM ENJOYING EACH ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE

YEAH I MUST GET A KICK OUTTA YA

YOU SEE MATE, I AM ONLY 23, I DESERVE ANY CHANCE TO REALLY PARTY

IF YOU CAN’T EXCEPT THAT, GO HOME AND CUDDLE YOUR PILLOW

AND READ YOUR BOOK WIND IN THE WILLOWS

I LOVE PEOPLE WHO DON’T GO TO BED, NO MATTER WHAT THEIR AGES ARE

BECAUSE GOING TO BED EARLY IS FOR WOOSEYS

YEAH ONLY WOOSEYS GO TO BED EARLY DEAR

I WAS MUGGED BY THE WICKED WITCH

CAUSE MY MATES TREATED ME LIKE A SNITCH

I HATED THAT, SO I TOOK MY REVENGE, BUT YEAH, ****** OATHE I AM THE GRINCH

I STOLE CHRISTMAS FROM THE CHRISTIANS, AND GAVE IT TO THE BUDDHISTS

CAUSE, I DID IT ONCE BEFORE, I GET A KICK FROM DOING THIS, WAY TO GO BERT, THEY SAID BACK TO ME

I AM ONLY 23, THE DAYS HAVE SEEMED SO LONG CAN’T YA SEE

I AM ENJOYING EACH ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE

YEAH I MUST GET A KICK OUTTA YA

YA SEE, I HAVE HAD A HARD HARD LIFE, I DESERVE TO PARTY, AND GET INTO STRIFE WITH YOUR WIFE

AND MY MUM AND DAD, WILL SAY, YOU DON’T NEED TO PARTY, WE LIKE YA

I SAID, BUT I WANNA PARTY, I WANNA BE RICH AND FAMOUS, I WANT TO HELP THE HOMELESS, MAN

THAT’LL BE SO RADICAL DUDES, RADICAL RADICAL RADICAL DUDES

IF YA CAN’T EXCEPT ME FAMOUS, KISS MY ***

I AM ONLY 23, THE DAYS HAVE SEEMED SO LONG CAN’T YA SEE

I AM ENJOYING EACH ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE

I MUST GET A KICK OUTTA YA

DAVID, THANKS BERT, AND HERE IS SUE

SUE’  THANKS DAVID, ON MORE JINGLE

BERT’   IF YA HAPPY AND YA KNOW IT, HAVE A PARTY

AND BE A BIT OF A LITTLE SMART ALEK

DON’T FORGET, WE ARE BORN TO PARTY ON AAA YOUTUBE TV

IF YA HAPPY AND YOU KNOW IT HAVE A PARTY

DAVID’ WELL BERT YOUR SONG WAS SO COOL

BERT’  YEAH, MATE, I REALLY LOVE LIFE, ONLY NERDS GO TO BED EARLY

NO MATTER HOW OLD THEY ARE

SUE’   YOU REALLY MEAN THAT

BERT’ YES I DO

DAVID AND SUE TOGETHER

WAY TO GO BERT, SEE YA NEXT TIME, LET’S PARTY DUDES

Brian the cool vinnies bloke


you see brian allan was looking for something to do, to get him from being street trash

and a very nice lady named rowena said why don’t you work for vinnies, and brian said why not

and the next day, he was given an interview with helen, who was the boss at vinnies, and

she thought it would be great to have someone to do the bins and vacuum the floor before the start

and after 4 weeks of being there, brian thought he would like to be santa claus, and had to make uo

a proper reason for doing it, so brian said, i like the idea of giving the kids, who hate shopping with parents

a treat and helen thought she will make gingerbread men, to tickle the childs taste buds a lot,but helen was

in a bind, because i haven’t got a beard and she suggested i spray paint my real beard, but my parents were against that

because it would go against everything that santa stood for, but brian got angry with his parents and told them

that if they spray painted his beard, there will be no smart alek of a kid to pull his beard off, and as brian said that

his father yelled out, THAT’S ENOUGH, thinking i cared nothing about the kids of this city but that offended brian a lot

and made him hit his father, and this got brian really hyped up on being the best santa claus in canberra, and then

when brian explained to helen that it was causing a stir with the family to spray paint the beard, helen decided to

get a fake beard for me to use, and on the first day i played santa, i offered some of the adults gingerbread men

and they said, save them for the kids, and one little girl, who had the same resemblance to my eldest niece, said

i was a fake santa, and the santa at the mall was more real than i was, and some of the vinnies ladies brought their

own grandchildren in to get their gift from santa and i did my first year of santa, despite some smart a lek of a kid

attemptng to pull my beard off, but i was too smart for him, and after christmas was over packed my santa suit away for the first time

and then i met david who did the shoes, and i found him very good to talk too, you see i said when he dies he will be the

shoe shine man in heaven, but he sounded like he hated the idea, and he liked to joke around with stephen and mable and

i vacuumed the floor and then went outside to empty the clothing bin, and i did this all the time, ya know every day, and i had ken and brian

to help me, but brian thought it would be cool to bang on the clothing bin, while i was still in it and i told helen and she said

you should speak up for yourself, because i seem to let people walk all over me, and really i can’t be bullied by this so called brian

character, and then i started something new, you see i thought, it would be nice to to cook lunches 3 days a week at the new mental health

building, called the rainbow and i learnt how to do creative writing as well as meeting the messiah and a man named barry, who was a

really cool poet, sort of reminded me of my father, mainly because of his poem sounding like banjo patterson and henry lawson, and barry

was a lover of fitzroy, and supported the brisbane lions afl club, and i went to the club i do the bbq for, to watch the game with him and

he left before the end of the match and, i continued to go about my merry way, cooking meals at the rainbow and going on trips with the rainbow

having sing-a=longs and one man, warwick, swam 45 km at once and helen got a fire engine and i sat in it, and a star canberra raiders star

came to vinnies and signed a ball for me and my second year of santa claus went well also, i wrote fly burgers also that year, which was

funny and when i read it out, everyone was laughing along with it and they clapped it, and i read out the fact i missed scott macdonald also

and i went to queensland that year also, and when i got in my santa suit, i was visioning i will tell the kids i am an australian santa and instead of

living on the north pole, i lived right here in canberra but my parents who were strict on keeping kids imaginations flowing, hated me disillusioning

the kids minds, you see here is a poem about the aussie santa

ya see g’day mate i am the real santa

i don’t live at the north pole

i live in canberra australia, ya know the hot place, around christmas day

ya see ya know christmas is great as i do my gigs at vinnies

and as a treat i give out gingerbread men and lollies

you see christmas is fun for all ages dudes, yeah it’s fun oh yeah that’s right mate

i hope you don’t do ya santa gig way to ****** late


you see i thought i was given this gig, to bring the cool into santa

and one year i was doing my gig with an orange soda

who loves orange soda, i love orange soda

is it true, oh yeah it’s true ooh ooh ooh oh yeah

and in the following year, i was feeling fine, and my psychiatrist reduced my medication and that pushed me straight to the psych ward, where i thought

i died, and the psych ward was the gate to heaven and that ended the cool vinnies kid reign but i came back and i was more interested talking with david

and doing santa claus and that year i was checking tapes, but that only lasted 5 months, because there were getting more tapes coming in, i couldn’t keep it up

and santa was the thing, and because i was a good worker, suddenly everyone wanted me, but that was because of my manly charm, and helen left and glenn

came in and he had this little jingle, brian brian brian everything is fine, brian brian brian he’s a friend of mine brian brian brian makes the carpet shine?

you see his name is brian brian brian, and glenn sang that song to me every time i did the vacuuming at the shop and then after a few more santa gigs, glenn left and

paul s came in after vinnies had no boss, but i was still santa claus there and paul s was the official photographer for my santa claus gig, and that made me feel cool

and now, i am not santa anymore, but i really enjoyed the attention.

Captured in the psych ward part 5


You see Ron cooper and his ex Sally went on a cruise around noumea and New Caledonia and they really enjoyed that a lot and while they were on that cruise, brad was in a fowl tenoer cause everyone was watching the shows he doesn't wanna watch and Robert told brad that in life **** happens and brad said ******* and started to argue with the nurses saying he is the Buddhist messiah and needs to be given a special drug to take him to nirvana and he had a smart alek nurse say, I ain't religious, so I don't care and I think nirvana is a rock band not eternity ok patty walked in and said, I wanna see the nurse. And when the nurse came patty said, I have just came from Washington DC
And I saw president Obama and introduced mysrlf and he was proud to meet good old George Washington. You see. Well anyway thank you for that ticket to the states, it was muck appreciated and
Martin Kelly was banging the wall very loudly and saying you **** you **** you **** and Anne who was on the other side said as she walked past said you fucken stop banging on the wall you kid grabber or phedaphile yeah stop banging ya phedaphile or I wlll bash you up, I am going to bash you up, you see you can't hide here forever, one day the hospital will say your fit to go home but when I see you our there. Mate I will bash ya ****, ya stupid ****** phedaphile and Robert got up to take a **** and they bought lunch out and a fight between Anne and brad and Susan started to erupt and the nurses were having a hard time, they had to bring in the doctors with the ****** and lock them in their rooms abs Ron and and Sally are having a great time in New Caledonia waking around and Ron'a leg is getting better and you see Ron and Sally are really beginning to hit it off as they are in a pub having a scotch and back at the HDU. Brad and Anne were cursing at each other through the walls but both wanted enough power to break the walls
But they couldn't hear each other cause thru were on the opposite sides if each other and Susan went our and said shut up abe went over to the TV and said to Robert, we are watching TV, please don't talk to me. I ain't into talking to kids, so just keep your conversation. To a minimum and Patru roe said.  How about you shut up Susan, Robert is a funny little kid, I line him and dusab said ******* ya **** and then Kate walked around the whole psych ward and as she passed brads room she said. Why don't you shut the **** up snd Ron and Sally were having inter course in the cruise and
The new patient was being driven by the police to the HDU but this was going to be a strange situation you see young 19 year old jack Drendlw had ******* a 10 year old who teased him and it ended up killing him abd to that day the police have been trying to crack this ****** case and the boys parents were told that jack is mentally ill and isn't going to jail
And going  to the HDU and the boys parents couldn't except it so they stole a police paddy wagon dressed up as police men and took jack hostage saying he is going to the HDU and instead they took jack into
Their house and tied him up in their sons room and this was part of their plan to really make Jack suffer for what he did /and this is going to be sweet revenge and back at the hospital when they got the phonecall saying that jack wasn't there, well they rang the police and yes they knew where he lived but it would be a nightmare to get there and the next day Ron and Sally's ship was arriving into Sydney harbour and when they arrived there, Ron said goodbye to Sally who lived in Sydney as she drove him to the airport and then Ron boarded the plane for Melbourne and when he touched down, in Melbourne Ron gor his luggage and gor a taxi home
And dropped off his bags and before he unpacked he put the 3-00 news on nine and heard about jack being tortured by his victims parents but the police said jack was supposed to be at the rmh HDU  and Ron went straight there to see if everything is alright and he got theu and clocked in and went to the HDU and said what had happened, how did thus one fall through the cracks and the nurses seid that the family of the victim didn't like the idea of him bring sent here. Ya see it's too nice for him and Ron said they can't think they taking the law in their own hands like this and Ron went into the HDU to check our the patients and
Saw Robert and patty in rte common room and Susan and Kate knitting together in the dining room and Kate asked how was your cruise and Ron said, it was ****** good and my leg is healed and are you feeling alright
And they said yeah and then went to solitary to say hi to Martin and George and Anne and they said ******* **** and ajnne said did ya enjoy ya cruise and Ron said I Did and them said hi to brad and brad said ******* and when he found our it was Ron, the first question he asked was how was your cruise and do you know it's great that you can go on a cruise whole we are locked in here, you see you are like fucken Rupert Murdoxh with those poor foxtel suckers and then the dinner cart was coming out and Ron clocked off and went home and made some stir fry
And Singapore noodles and looked our the window and two young people were having a domestic and at first Ron said, I roll leave then alone but suddenly the bloke gor out
His gun and threatened to **** her and calked the cops and went down
To save the woman and the man has paranoid schizophrenia which was ****** obvious and it took 25 minutes for the cops to arrive and when they did the man was arrested and sent to the staton and the lady thanked Ron and Ron asked are you going to be ok and and she said yeah. And Ron went up yo her unit and sat on the couch and watched the TV and fell asleep on the couch
He has had a hard day


Sent from my iPhone

I’ve never felt so tranquil
while so numb.

It’s like leaving while
staying still, a calm
pulse in nothing,
music without a sound,
*** without a body.

It’s an erasure of strides
in snow and slush,
a dissolving act,
the cackle of a
wholesome child.

Pure and imperfect.

Today,
I am drifting downstream,
riding the cherry blossoms.

And I’m not stopping this time,
I’m not checking out,
waking up or falling asleep.

The stars will kiss me and I
will drink their light.

I am no longer afraid.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

captured in the psych ward ——  a strange word——— something to do with bludger



today ron has his hands full when a person came after tying an 11 year old boy to the toilet

and he started to get these weird voices in his head, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it,

you see his youth wasn’t bad, there was a bit of teasing but his parents think the teasing could’ve

been the reason why he did the crime, you see his brother said, be a oh ledger, which made no

fucken sense, and it could be a strange name because he didn’t want his sibling to be labelled a

pheadphile, and ron was talking to him asking him, why did you attack that child and he said

because i wanted him to suffer for what my school mates were doing to me, you see my school mates

are calling me a ole ledger, which makes no sense, and ron said, maybe they are calling you that, because

they feel guilty calling you a phedaphile, or they prefer to not call a mate a phedaphile, and then ron said

or maybe they are saying young bludger or a dole bludger because you look lazy to me, and then the man got

up and said, i am a bit of a bludger, but i am not a dole bludger, i want to work, but most of the jobs i like to do

are jobs that this crime would stop me from doing, and charlie chaplin came up to the man and said, charlie’s my name

what is yours and he said, kidnapper bill, you see i kidnapped a kid named bill, and now i am in here, being called

a oh ludger, and charlie said, they are calling you what, and he said a oh ludger, you see i was getting teased all my life

and i took out revenge on them by destroying the life of a litte kid, and ron said, do you think you should tell very many people

because charlie will tell and it could make your time in here uncomfortable and he said, i can handle it, and he said, like when

i grabbed that kid, i felt good, i was just about to make the past leave my mind, because those teasers were horrible to me

and then ron said ok they called you a oh ludger, which makes no sense, why the devil was that word in your head because

it is not a word in the english language, and then the child molestor said, my name is gordon mcllumsy, and i am 23 years old

and i have been getting teased all my life, and my brother peter mclumsy is calling me a oh ludger, because he wanted to

keep it from our father that he thought i was a pheadphile, i don’t believe in having *** with a kid, i just tied him up and threaten him

if he tells the cops, well obviously he did, and he’ll pay for it, and pete, my brother said, your a oh ludger, and since that day my mind

was so messed up, i thought he was treating me like a family person, or a dole bludger or a young bludger, but now you guys have

arrested me, the voice has stopped but pete came the other day, and i heard the words oh ludger come out of his mouth

and i hear those words 25 times in one day, i am trying to relax in here but the voice of my brother says you are a oh ludger, oh ludger

and i told him, yeah a dole bludger or a young bludger or maybe even a sports watcher, because gordon was watching the sport when

that voice became clearer, and he had hallucinations of his mates at school saying, your getting teased gordon, we tried to push you over

the edge and now you are getting teased and ron said ok, and when these kids teased you, what did they say, and gordon said, they went yeah mate

to me every time i did family stuff, like play footy or cricket, or even when we played boardgames, and gordon hated that, screaming out

LEAVE ME THE **** ALONE, I AM A FAMILY PERSON, and this happened every day for gordon, and most of the time it wasn’t just yeah mate

sometimes, bullies would pick on him, by jabbing pocket knives into his neck or gut, or jabbing ball point pens onto his ***** and gordon said

LEAVE ME THE **** ALONE, I AM A FAMILY PERSON, and the head bully of the school locked gordon in the school store room, saying

you will be here overnight, **** and gordon wanted to get out, and eventually a teacher let him go, and then gordon told rob, i wanted revenge

on these bullies, and this kid got in my way, and since that day, i heard the voices, oh ludger coming out of my brother and mates, and i thought

this meant nothing, and gordon still thought they meant dole kludgier, sports watcher or young bludger, but gordon thought pete was a real little

smart alek and needed to be taught a very big lesson, because gordon isn’t really a pheadaphile, he was just bullied around at school by stupid

jealous school kids and ron thought straight away that gordon needs medication to calm his mind, so he chose 300 mils largactil at night and

200 mills serenace in the morning, and ron thought with talk therapy, this should work, so he gave him his first dose of serenade, and he was still

hearing the words oh ludger, which could’ve meant sports watcher or dole bludger or young bludger or even a special name so pete and gordon’s parents

don’t find out that pete was treating gordon like a family person, and gordon was walking around yelling with words saying, i am not a pheadaphile, please

stop treating me like a phedaphile and gordon yelled at anyone who looked at him when they watched the news which made ron come out and try

and settle him down, gordon said, stop treating me like a little kid, I AM A RUN OF THE MILL, HEAVY DUTY MAN, dudes, and then gordon goes to his room

and then hears the words oh ludger, don’t be a yeah mate yeah kid, gordon, be a oh ludger, which means nothing to gordon and gordon yelled out

LEAVE ME ALONE YA ****, I AM NOT A OH LUDGER, i could be a dole bludger or a sports watcher, or a young bludger, but i am not a phedaphile

that kid had it f..n coming and i don’t deserve being captured in ron’s psych ward, being shoved on any medications, i want the best, f..n rupert and

then the order forms came out for lunch and dinner and gordon ordered his meals and went to his room yelling at his voices calling him a oh ludger

and gordon said, LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE, then ron, who was terribly worried about gordon gave him 2 values and said just relax because you

are causing people to complain about you, and the ****** sent gordon off to sleep till his family, including pete came to visit him and gordon told his parents

to stay, but pete had to go, because, he can hear oh ludger coming from his teasing voice which forced me to being a kidnapper, dudes and ron thought

that maybe his parents need to understand what medication gordon is on and that he hears voices of pete calling him a oh ludger which could be a dole bludger

or a sportswatcher or a young bludger or a fancy way that pete says he is a pheadaphile, to make make you feel great, and we put gordon on largactil and

serenace to control his urges to abduct children, apparently he was taking revenge on kids at his school and then gordon spent 2 hours with his parents

and his parents left, and it was almost dinner time and gordon went out to the dinner table and at dinner time, gordon got what he ordered, fish and chips

and vegetables with a orange juice and a chocolate mousse and after dinner ron gave gordon his largactil and gordon went to his room, missed supper

because he was having a big sleep, where he awoke at 5 am, and he went out to the dining room to wait for 2 hours for breakfast and medications, but

he told the nurses he had a dream about being burnt at a stake, because he remembered being treated like an old witch when he was 13 and when ron

came after his lovely time at home with pizza and sleeping on the couch, turned up at the hdu to give the patients the morning medications and ron

asked gordon, are you still hearing old ludger and gordon said, yeah, i f..n am and i started by thinking they were treating me like a sports watcher as

i was watching the tennis last night, but i fell asleep, and gordon still doesn’t understand what old ludger actually meant and then lunch came with

gordon yelling at his voices so loudly and then afternoon tea, with gordon having 3 pieces of the cake and then dinner came, and gordon started hearing

voices in ron and the nurses, and that started driving him completely nuts, and gordon told ron, and ron decided to give him more serenace and start

by trialling eppelim on him to be taken at lunch time to reduce the voices he hears and then dinner came and gordon ate his dinner and then ron brought

around the nightly medications and then ron clocked off and bought lunch at his favourite cafe and went home and watched greys anatomy and fell asleep

on the couch, while gordon was still bothered by the word old ludger, but it was calming slowly but surely.

clasped hands on snow covered hills

trails of blood down fresh cut legs

pain and love behind the big brown eyes
of a smiling freckled face embraced

flushed from crown to nape


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

Old breadcrumbs litter the placemat where
my little one had sat that morning.

That morning I told her she was running too
late to finish the PB&J with fine
pineapple pieces she had made for herself.
She gobbled the thing up in seconds, and with
a mouth still full she walked over and mumbled
bye. I wiped juice leaking out the corner, and
with a snort and a kiss to her forehead I
said see ya’, have fun. And with that she was out
the door, her red backpack one strapped like the
baseball boys did.

All that’s left are these breadcrumbs. I can’t
get myself to clean them up and throw
them away. I see them every day,
every meal, every middle of the
night as I peck on pineapple PB&Js.

As much as I know these crumbs must go, I don’t
regret for a second letting her eat that sandwich
the way she did. It was hell to raise such a rebel,
but she was never going to let anyone stop
her from what she wanted, including me. And she
makes me proud. I’ll clean it up eventually, but
for now, my little one’s breadcrumbs stay.


-
Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

I don't like your words spitting fire at my name
Pretending like I don't know the curses on your tongue
Every blood stained status' about being heartbroken
I'm not stupid, no, that's you

It's been three years and i've moved on
Past all the moonlight walks and candlelight dinners
To a better place in my life where you don't exist
Until recently you've started to persist

You didn't haunt my dreams anymore
I could look at a picture of us without crying
My parents trusted me to leave the house without
Threatening to run away to you

Seeing your name on the screen
Seems just a little bit surreal as I respond
"Hey!" to your excited hello
Not sure with you, quite where this is going to go

Because you like mind games and figuring people out
You went from Pre-Med to pyschology
I should've guessed you'd make that turn-about
Each word from you is carefully crafted, now that I can tell

I've gotten smarter since we've last talked
Been put through a little more by a few more people
Testing my limits and breaking my fears
I'm not the same little girl you knew my freshman year

Sure I still have the same blue eyes that shine when I cry
And the same broken heart that tore to pieces when you left
The same false confidence that takes people for a ride
Same snarky comments that tend to be so snide

But i've evolved and i've grown up
As obviously as you haven't
With your fifty-cent words and smart alek comments
Still the same as they were when you left

Now I can see through your facade
Predict every move you'll make because I've made them
I'm more expierenced  now then ever before
You weren't expecting a lot but you're going to get much more

Before you get stuck in this plot of revenge
I suggest you take the easy way out
Go to your friends list and click remove
Forget my name existed, like you seemed to before

Damaged people are the most dangerous
Because they know how to survive
Through the pain and the cold and the heartache
That others have never experienced

I'm dangerous to you, and the history you remind me of
I put it in my past, forgot and expected that to last
I am better off without you, that's obvious now
That my life doesn't revolve around you, as you made it to somehow

I'm never going back to that
The dark and lonely places
That you left me wondering what was happening
Now I know that I did nothing wrong

You were the one at fault, you were the one to blame
What is going to come may be childish, or even a bit insane
So here it is, your warning
Welcome to my game.

I need you to call my name.

I want to hear it escape your throat.

You know my name. It is the one
that sounds like the stabbing of
steel shovels into sodden soil.

It is the one you addressed
on all those notes and letters.

Say it. Say it now.
Cry my name.

You will say it, even if
it spills from your teeth
and stains your ******* skin.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

It pretends to be one of us, but it’s not quite human.

It masquerades as a person, wearing skin that
mimics our flesh, with joints designed to rotate and
glide like ours. It listens to the changing cadences
and tones of our voices, measures our temperatures
and respiration and blinking rates, and then reacts.
And when it behaves, it does so on accumulated
data, learned and converted into best practices.

But it does not have fantasies. It fills its shoes
with synthetic muscle and steel but never wears
another’s. It does not look at birds and wishes
to fly, nor looks to the moon in hopes of someday
making the lengthy trek to wander the gray crust.

It pretends to be one of us, but it’s not quite human.

Not yet.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

Seagulls peck away at forgotten remnants.

A knot of women gossip and giggle
as they admire the young man up the shore
performing pullups, sweat rolling down
the lines of his back. Two men walk by
holding hands, sharing a kiss
before the sunset. A woman relaxes with
an ******-mystery-thriller and a
Jennie of Morris Muscat all for herself.

And an old man lies on the sand, ****
and propped on his elbows, his toes tickling
the rising tide as he stares out into the sea.
He always hated his body. Hated being
underneath his skin, his fat, the hair
on his back, his inadequacies. This old man
plans to die here, in this new land, his senior
getaway. But at least he will spend his
final days at this beach, wetting his feet,
taking in the rising moon’s cool breath.
And he’s around people who understand
his need for freedom, who wouldn’t
make him feel ashamed for being him,
for just being born human.

A young man arrives, staying in the backshore.
He strips to his boxers and hesitates,
looking towards the waves for strength.
He then throws them off and plops down,
holding his knees to his chest, a smirk on his face.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow
(Alek the Poet)

We meet on a
a crowded street
and stand still,
like a pair of boulders
caught in a river
surrounded by salmon
as they swim upriver,
flowing by and
paying us no mind.
Off to the side two men
share a meal al fresco,
laughing into wine glasses.

After what seems a lifetime
you touch my face,
and I touch yours.
And I remember
every minutia.
We've been apart
for so long,
and yet it's like
a garden revealed
when the snow melts.
The freckles,
the spots,
the creases
beside your lips.
And I watch with glee
your goosebumps
rise and can tell
by your smile
you can see mine.

"Get a ******* room!"
One of the men hollers
with a chuckle
as the other guffaws
and nearly chokes
on his bread.

We look to them
and laugh,
a laugh shared
by strangers
knowing love
when they see it;
of a shared humanity.


-
By Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

She wraps the presents with cheap paper
on the desk against the wall, lit by dim
Christmas lights. All the unwrapped toys
are in the pink plastic basket at her feet,
and she stacks the finished ones at the
foot of the bed.

I’m propped up on the pillows, touching
myself and stroking my chest as I watch
her work, charmed by how her bones
and muscles move beneath her skin. She
turns around with a finished gift and
sets it down. Her eyes meet mine and she
simpers, biting  her lower lip, then turns
and picks up another toy.

I leave the bed, careful not to knock
anything off, and walk up behind her.
She keeps working on the present as I
pet her shoulders and brush my fingers
along her back. I press my body against
hers, wrapping my arms around her
waist and planting kisses on her neck.

She stops working and places her hands
on mine, tilting her head back and
letting her hair drape my shoulder. I
move my hand down her stomach and
across her hair, and I rub her. She huffs
and brings my other hand to her *******,
beckoning me to caress her. I circle
tighter, faster, harder, and she moans
and reaches her hand back to caress me.

I nibble at her ear, and she lets out a
heavy moan, and I whisper in her ear

“You are a wonderful mother.”

Her breathing slows, and she nudges
my  hand from her. “Don’t say that” she
whispers. We stand there, frozen, before
she continues working on the present.
I stay there behind her, realising my
best intentions were a mistake.

“I’ll just go then.” I put my clothes back
on and remove the trash bag from the
bin to take with me to make sure her
husband doesn’t find my condoms.
“Merry Christmas.” I close the bedroom
door and leave her home, careful not
to wake her kids.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

Daniel Morecambe calls to his kidnapper from Venus



Hi, I am Daniel Morecambe, and you think you killed me
But you killed my body, but not my soul
I will always be up here in outer space
While you are rotting in your jail cell
I hope you stay there, cause I love teasing you
You see I am a kid, and your a man
I am a kid, and you are a man
And when I say man, just a age man
You aren't a normal man, but I will be a smart alek kid up here forever
You will never **** my soul dude
I want to sing this song, to all you would be kidnappers down there on earth
I am your victim, death doesn't shut me up
I can't have gags on my mouth anymore
You can't **** me, and mate, I am a kid, and your a man
I'm a kid and your a man, cool kids do what I do yeah
You aren't a cool kid, you are a evil kidnapper
Well, you are now under my power
You see, it's true, I am a kid and your a man
You will never catch me again

Is that danger in the distance?
Or do my eyes deceive?

****.

Like dark clouds
gathering above mountains.
Like how the young see their futures.

(Though it's not like the world hasn't been ending
this entire time.

In billions of years the sun will explode.
In hundreds, our planet will be just dust and stone,
and the bones of industry.
And at my rate
I'll self-destruct by sixty years of age.

But) what is this thing that sticks and stings
and irks
like a mirage?

Not the flavor of fingers dipped in deliciousness.
Not the freshness of a newborn babe.
Not the scent of flowers.
Not feet in a hot bath.
Not fumbling a lovers face,
frolicking through foxglove fields,
flitting a fiery frevo,
finishing first.

No,
none of that.

It's not a thing,
but a feeling.

Fear
Fear
Fear

And it sticks and stings
and irks,
like a mirage.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

*****

how would you like it

the bartender
sighs the lord’s name in vain
understood the slurred wittiness

wobble onto stool
****** over
joining the rest of the line

sweet

the sound
system jests that one song
about a breakup
puke on the sofa next to your carpet

it’s yellow
swayed hips
shoulders give way

diluted In and Out closed
turn over

moist

to the Devil’s dance floor
where a pretty ugly Frenchie took your wrist
foot strikes a patch of ice
popped cherry on a yellow wheel stop

get up dizzy
scrape on forearm
the impassionate spring fever

wrapped around neck
constrains body against

*****

hands stroked rock hard back

she asks if she could have a stick

reached into baggies
pulled out a yellow
she takes halo
you took halo

got into the convertible

a silent triumph when you insert your key

twist


---
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

Downtown’s sodium orange
penetrates the snow fog around us,
and the xenon sign outside this club
stains your teeth an electric blue.

There are bloodshot eyes behind puffs
of smoke as you **** on a cigarette.

Our feet ***** the salt and butts
under the slush as snow coats our
coats and your short, curly hair.

Your lips lap the tip for mere seconds
at a time, never leaving your lungs
full for long. I watch your chest rise
and fall with each burning breath
and imagine that coat curling away
and falling like ash. But I don’t smoke
and loathe the smell that lingers
betwixt my fingers.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

We finish digging our graves, dug
to what we consider three feet, but
we don’t worry about measurements.

These deaths are negligible.

Coated in dirt and sweat and heaving,
we gaze at each other. We both nod,
toss our shovels aside and walk over
to our bodies. He grabs his by the wrist
and drags it across the grass. I hoist
mine into my arms and shuffle over.

They’re both dumped into the graves,
and we fill both the holes. He walks to
his car without hesitation. I pause a
moment to glare at my grave, but I don’t
offer a eulogy or prayer, only standing
there in silence. I catch up to him, throw
my shovel in the trunk, and we drive off.

He drops me at my home, and I go inside
to find my wife watching TV. My wife? I
blink, trying to focus. Yes, she is my wife.
She says “Hey honey”, and I respond with
a low “Hey”, but she doesn’t look over,
does not notice the mess. I ***** up the
stairs, counting the steps, and start a shower.

As the water warms, the mirror reveals
someone familiar. No, not familiar, this is
me. I get under the warm stream, letting it
clean away what is left of me.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

A mother sits on the edge
of a hospital bed with her
baby daughter lying on her lap.

The air throughout the hospital
is suffocating, stifling with the
stench of filth and death.

The walls amplify and echo the
anguish of women and children,
and jets fly somewhere overhead.

But she tries to sing a lullaby
through her parched throat
beneath her grubby niqāb. The skin
and bones that make her frame
cannot sway the child for comfort.

She cannot feed her; even if her
******* could provide sustenance,
the child’s sickness would puke it
back up. She craves to cry for God
to spare her little one, but her
bloodshot, sunken eyes no longer
produce tears. All she can offer is
her lullaby, the same one she sang
to all her children. All that remains
of them and their father are fragments,
scattered throughout dirt and debris,
blown to bits a week ago by a blast
in her village. When the only one left
became sick, she started the trek to
the nearest hospital. The journey
greeted her with dust and unbearable
heat, with the agony of an empty
stomach, with a child in misery and
excreting white diarrhea. And when
she finally reached the hospital, the
doctors could not provide treatment.

The disease had progressed too far,
and they did not have the means to
save her daughter. So she sits on a
hospice bed, surrounded by other
sickly and starving bodies, singing a
lullaby. Soon the child closes her eyes
and stops breathing, a thick white
drool leaking down her cheek. Her
mother wipes it away.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

You drink milk
when all that’s served
is water and wine.

You ****** the throbbing
pulse of the night
with your contriving lips.

You dip into the
honey and you
bedizen your seat.

You leave a trail of blood
to lead you back to
where you are from.

You wink and
the world relents.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

We write prose in
the dead-cold Winter air,
where the old works we
cared for are frozen.

We buried their poets
in the dirt, along with
their bones, beneath
sleet headstones
of inscriptions meant
for the passerby.

Soon Spring’s rain shall
wash the prayers away, and
her warmth will deliver us
from poetry to life.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow
(Alek the Poet)

The sun is napping behind a cloud,
though loud plane engines call her awake.

Pollen is prancing around the patch,
and tiny critters follow their lead.

A big dog lies on the patio,
his smelly body absorbing heat.

You rest here with a pen in your hand,
tossing small diamonds into the sand.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow
(Alek the Poet)

I keep hearing the question, 
“would you speak to a friend like that?” 
No, I would not. 

But

friend? What friend? Were we supposed 
to be friends? I would never befriend 
someone like this. Who suffocates me. 

Who’s so toxic I’ve caught ***** in my 
throat, eroding my will to breathe. Who 
wields a heavy fist and punishes with 
violence. Who lights silences with flames. 

No, you are not my friend.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

When we are breathing,
we share in our breath.

People are self-seeking,
and unless we play with
pragmatics, we can’t help it.
Yet we are helpless in
how bounteous we are.

When we are breathing,
we share in our breath,
and when we die,
we share in our death.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

He proclaims this room as if it’s his throne
Igniting his body with his cologne

He presses the top like a wheel to a stone
Then leaves me behind all cold and alone


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

The sun settles into morning, 
and I'm waking up from another
restless night. Another night
spent with you hanging from
every dream and every breath.

But I am free. I have been
liberated. Last night I ripped
my heart out of my breast
and devoured it in front of you.

And you let me.

You let me harm myself
without letting it hurt you. 

Thank you.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

I lay the stem and foot of the wineglass
next to the two Jennies of Morus Muskat
on the windowsill above the sink. One
is empty, the other has a glass left.

I sweep sprinkles of glass onto the blotched
paper towels in the trash, then put the
bin and the dustpan and hand brush away
beneath the sink. I glance out the window,
leaning open-armed against the counter,
and watch the tall grass dance to the breeze.

The setting sun brushes the blades and the
backyard and the dirt path, the porch resting in
a shadow. I leave the sink and grab a glass
from a cabinet and return. I pour the
rest of the Muskat, getting every drop.

I place the bottle on the sill and freeze.

She is standing on the porch in her
Santorini blue dress, the back stained in
crimson from the small crater in the back
of her head. The mush within her skull has
rot, fragments of flesh caught in her dark hair.

I clench my eyes, hoping she disappears,
but when I reopen she is still there.

I take a deep breath, letting the knots
escape my bones. I gulp down the glass and
walk out onto the porch. She doesn’t breathe
or sway, a statue peering into the
blades. Her lips are closed, her green eyes
unblinking and settled, mascara rivers
melted into her cheeks. Her expression feels
like the calm of the broken and numbed, of
those who have surrendered the fight. I say
hello, again. She looks at me, her eyes
unwavering. She glides over and skims
her cold fingertips across my throat and
down my arm as she leaves the porch, down the
dirt path to the edge of the grass. She turns
around and looks to me, and I follow
the path to her. As I stroll through the mist,
blue in the twilight, my heart pounds, though my
mind is clear and set only on her. I
reach her, and my breath has become shallow
as she stares into my eyes. She kisses me,
and it feels the same as it once had, but
I taste metal and am overwhelmed by
the smell of nitrocellulose. She turns
and steps into the field. I get a glimpse
at the hole, and see the decomposition
and the maggots that have burrowed, writhing
in the putrid flesh. She turns around, her
eyes closed, and she reaches her hand towards me.

I reach my hand out, but stop halfway. She
senses my falter and puts her hand down.

She opens her eyes, looking at me in
disappointment that I would not let her
lead me. She disappears, leaving behind
an emptiness only she could fill. I
remain paralyzed, my senses dulling,
my heart slowing. As always, I turn
around and follow the dirt path through the
clear morning air and rays of sunrise.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow
(Alek the Poet)

You were never
there. The gentle
hum of sugar.

On the tables
are magazines
but they’re blind in
the dark. White coats
and expensive
ties in and out.

You were never
there. The last gasp
unheard before
the vanishing
tone. Wrinkles.



-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

send our ashes into space
so we may dance with spirits
set us on a lightning flight
a bridge to all our wishes
spread our matter in the shade
so we may breathe Olympus
spheres of gas and burning light
let’s end in silent glory



-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

Within the mighty depths of hell
a hopeful strength emerged.

A chick is hatched, unprepared, gone.

But soon this demon died and fell
for Death fulfilled an urge.

Dust from dried-up reservoirs swamp
the morning. Sweat sticks to thin clothes.

And from her ashes rose a scorn,
a surge of wrath, as they do tell.

Hats and fans wave in cadence on
the porch. Mosquitos and flies on
sunburnt skin are swat from existence.

Hearts were crossed, souls were torn;
flooded by a sea of her love.

An ashen cloud submerges the
forest. The withered, dew-frosted
blood-red leaves drift off, joining the
arrangement on the soil. Clear
water streams by to the high tide.


-
By Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

He has sensitive teeth, yet 
he sips frigid liquids for 
the same reason he goes out 
of his way to stamp on ants.

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

The pens I went
to bed with left
streaks of ink
on my sheets and
pillowcases. We
soiled these
sheets with
unleashed intimacy,
with authenticity,
with validation,
with imagination
and creativity.

And when we
finished, when we
had jotted thoughts
as clear as we
could, we drifted
off to sleep. When
I woke from my
dreams, I would look
at the product of
this conception,
full of pride.

Then I’d look down
and see the blots
across my body,
my bed, my sheets,
and chuckle at the
mess it takes to
create these darlings.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow
(Alek the Poet)

When you take the soil,
do you grab a handful,
or just a bit?

Is your nose sluggish,
or has it been days since
you’ve cried and you
smell the petrichor?

Do you listen to the priest
offering prayers? Or do you
turn hollow and hear only
your heartbeat?

Do you mutter a message,
grant your final send-off?
When you let go, do you
unfurl your hand and let it
drop like a heavy weight
leaving your open palm?
Does it seep between your
fingers and out of your hand?

Or are you swift, silent, eager
to advance the procession?
Do you toss it, as if sending
a ship off to sea?

Do you believe the carcass
beneath that pine lid cherishes
your gesture? Or do you do this
for yourself, for solidarity with
those with you? Do you think
there’s a difference?

When you take the soil,
do you grab a handful,
or just a bit?


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

Heard from within the static
An erratic fracture falling flat
Calling all the innocent out
Calling all the innocent out

Found whimpering in dimpled corners
Unearthing a second coming
Calling all the innocent out
Calling all the innocent out

Calling all the innocent out


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)

Apple or tangerine?

Apple or tangerine?

What should I eat this morning?

Is it important?

Will the wrong choice destroy my day?

Is there a way to tell the difference?

Is there a wrong choice?

Or am I wasting my precious
time casting doubts?

Or is this the path of purpose,
to see one’s choices as if they
matter in the details that make the
fibres and stitching of the grand scheme?

Have I figured it out?

Or is that my ego craving importance?

What if there’s-


Crap, I have to go.

Guess I’ll have the banana.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

if there is pain
there is hope
but if you are numb
you'll never know
if you can cry
please do
if you want to cry
please do


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet

It can be amusing
to lose one’s mind.

You don’t catch at first
how it slipped out the backdoor.
But you notice something
is missing, and after a minute
you realize it’s at it again.

You go to the backdoor, chuckling,
and out the screen,
just before you see it
dash around the corner,
you call out,
“Hey *******!
I’ve found you before
and I’ll find you again!”

But then it’s gone,
and for at least awhile
it hides, with you left to seek.

Left with too many empty bottles.
Too many memories.
Too many guilty thoughts.
Too many fantasies.
And far too many sleeping pills,
with not enough sleep.

---
by Aleksander Mielnikow | Alek the Poet