Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Your world belongs to me now.
I can take over every aspect of it, 24/7,
Stopping just shy, by a few micrometers, of what the law allows.
I'll accompany you now on all shopping trips
Offering my advice from, oh, forty feet or so away.
I'll utilize binoculars to make sure you're not doing anything unsafe.
Amazing how well those things work sometimes.
Especially at night, eh?
I might have to replace your dog with a smaller, less intimidating unit;
Of course; you're free to keep the replacement or do whatever you want with him.
Don't want to risk a serious bite on my intrusive forays after darkness..

Call forwarding; amazing cool thing that is!
No questions asked; just need a few minutes time on the telephone!
And pictures; I'll be taking loads of those.
You never know just when a particular photo might come in real handy.
I carry around bird-watching paraphernalia, so anytime I get stopped,
Everything looks copacetic, even the binos.

I also carry groundwater test kits, along with shovels, rakes; boring stuff like that.
You never know when you might need to test the water in an area.
The test kits are out of date by a decade or more, but who's checking?

Had to duct tape that old broken out back window.
I know, I know; it's unsightly and makes me highly visible,
But they'll never raise an eyebrow now, on seeing that fat roll of duct tape.
And you will always have peace of mind, since you can readily identify my car
And know for sure that I'm on the job, around the clock-
Working only for you, babe.

Oops; time's a-flying. Have to get downtown to the city before they close.
I've requested to take a peek at some publicly viewable records.
Amazing what you can find out there, that you never would have expected.
Isn't it?
Bye now; catch you later, ok?
fictional prose
Pick a number any number.
I thought that a man like me
was destined for immortality
but sadly
that'll never be.

Time,
we can cheat it
try to beat it but it
wins in the end.
We pick a number any number and
when our number's up
we slumber.
I
was caught up in the illusion
that between man and time's a fusion,
a meeting of the minds in space,but
now I have the time to face
the truth.
ktarrpropaganda Jun 2016
You smirk as I tell you (I hold up my thumb and index fingers micrometers from one another to provide a visual reference ) that you make me feel "this" big.
I shrink further.

I. Being such a
small.
weak.
petty.
insignificant.
pathetic excuse for a man
struggle beneath the weight of your constant requests... -no-

demands:
"I'm hungry."
"I need a cigarette."
"Get your hands off me."
"I'm bored... let's do something."

I ******* adore you. I worship you. You are an ocean and I am merely a single grain of sand. I pray to God that he make me the ME that would YOU would appreciate most. I say

"Anything for you baby."

This one-sided tail-chasing brain **** of a relationship is so twisted that even when I satisfy your demands, I keep shrinking... evident I prove weakness- not worth.

"Can I have another cigarette?"
This is the last thing you say to me before i drive away.  
"I love you",  I silently narrate as I hand you a smoke.

No.
You know what?
*******.

I hope this is the cigarette that causes cancer.
I hope you drop this cigarette while you're driving and swerve into the oncoming lane; searching for it as it burns your ******* gorgeous, flawless legs.
I hope you fall asleep with it lit and I hope it burns you up; leaving your chair and clothes intact (a curious occurrence called the "wicking" effect). I will spread whispered rumors that it was spontaneous combustion... so that others too might see you as this rare and unique and sorrowfully amazing phenomena that I know you to be.

As I drive off, I continue shrinking until
I.
This:
Small.
Petty.
Weak.
Insignificant.
Pathetic excuse for a man is just a single grain of sand on some shore of a beautiful ocean who could give a **** less.

— The End —