n.*  hy•po•thal•a•mus -ˈthal-ə-məs\
: the part of the brain that controls fight or flight responses

September 23rd
The first time our eyes met
Travelling across the room
Not knowing that those were the same eyes
That could **** me with a smile

December 28th
I found out that you wrote
And ****, that was hot
Your words that got me hooked
Were the same ones that cut my strings

February 14th
We were nothing close to lovers
Not even bestfriends
But I somehow felt less lonely
Talking to you everyday

April 8th
The beginning of heat
And I think I barely noticed
Because the thought of you
Makes blood rush to my cheek

June 19th
The start of school
And the start of the drift
Or maybe it was just stress?
I hung on to our conversations

July 31st
You talked about this new girl
And how she was pretty
And funny
And everything I wasn’t

August 17th
We haven’t talked in 2 weeks
Not like you noticed much
All you cared about was her
I'm starting to miss you
Alot

September 27th
I was in Biology
I studied the hypothalamus
And how it controlled
The fight or flight response of our body

September 27th
I was studying the hypothalamus
And learned that the body has a natural instinct
To detect danger or warning
Thus activating the hypothalamus

September 27th
I was studying the hypothalamus
And **** who gave you the right to walk in my mind
I was studying the hypothalamus for God’s sake how does this even relate to you?
I saw you in everything
A notebook – Cos you write
Coffee – because you loved it
The Fault In Our Stars – because you hated it
Pictures of New York – because it was your dream
My playlist – because you made it
My jacket – because it smells like you
My little sister – because she looks for you
My mother – because she still makes your favorite dinner whenever you visit
The flowers on our porch – because you planted them
Hot Pockets – because you despised them
But **** never did I expect to see you in a hypothalamus

September 27th
People don’t come with warning signs attached to their necks
And even if our body has a natural instinct to detect danger
People like you, know just the right things to say or do to trick my body into thinking you're good for me
You know my passcode, how to get through my walls
So all this time I’ve been wondering
Where was my hypothalamus, if I even had one
Why didn’t it warn me
To flee your arms before I got entangled in your words,
Before I sunk in the quicksand of your charm
Why wasn’t I warned, to fight or flight, before I got hurt this bad?
Why wasn’t I warned of the danger that was you.

Befriend with me and help me find which is gone
Had A to Z, still there's something wrong
Swiftly search, for it's all alone
J V X Q, for the sake of completing the poem

We were a trio.
Gone together,
mentally alone.

90's alternative had been playing for maybe
three-quarters of an hour, and at this point
we were all mostly toasted.
A shot of beer a minute.

Talking ****, shuffling the deck.

Nick laughed, Luke mocked.
I cheered them both on.
In that moment we all lived in the golden light
of youthful ignorance and concrete friendship
that can only be fully grasped by a drunken trio of guys
in their mid-twenties at 2:00 AM on an idle Thursday night.

We all cracked fresh cold ones and lit up fresh cigs,
and I raised the burning tobacco in a toast:
"To friendship!"

Luke matched my pose, left arm outstretched.
We caught each other's eyes, and without missing a beat
his right hand plunged the cherry into his left forearm.
I looked down and saw myself doing the same,
yet felt no pain. We stayed that way until our embers died,
and relit the remaining smoke off of a shared flame.
Nick never matched our level of commitment,
I doubt he even bears a scar these days.
My scar still itches from time to time.
I wonder if Lukes does, too.

Eventually
I started seeing tunnels
and soon, gravity took me.
Horizontality was my fate.
I was the first to fall,
the first to succumb to gratuitous consumption.

...

Birds chirping, deafening in the late morning.
The angry sun cast slotted beams
through the still-lingering twines
of cigarette smoke from the night before.
I watched it slowly twirl and stir through slitted eyelids.
My eyes hurt, and my neck creaked as I looked around.
Nick passed out beside me, I figured Luke got the top bunk.
In the daylight I could always see the apartment for what
it really was.
An escape.
One room, bunk beds, and abject emotional destitution.
I rolled over on to the floor and steadied myself with
closed eyes and a palm planted on the ***** carpets.
My phone was on the desk in the corner, I grabbed it
and headed towards the bathroom.

**** cascaded, and through the open bathroom window
I could hear it echo off of the buildings lining New Street.
My hand floated up to the back of my head
and picked at something. Something hardened.
There was a thick layer of something
on the back of my scalp,
down the back of my neck.
It felt like wax.
We were burning a candle last night.
They must've dumped it on me
since I was the first to fall asleep.
I quit picking when I was struck by a sharp pain in my arm,
my left forearm.
A bit of my hair had probed an open wound,
a round burn mark.
I sat down on the floor and remembered for a bit.

My phone turned on with a melodic series of beeps,
it had been awhile since I turned it on.

One new voicemail.

I dialed the number 1 while picking wax from my hair,
put my passcode in,
and listened.

Mom called me last night, she was crying.
I was used to that sound at this point.
"Otis wont get up, I think he's dying Justin."
A brief pause.
"Please come home."






I'm sorry Otis. I loved you.
More than a dog, you were a canine brother.
Raised alongside me.
Raised by the same parents.

I didn't come home,
at least,
not then.

Some fears are paralyzing




1. We need to talk


2. A random text message from him


3. Passcode incorrect

Slide to unlock you command
I do so with a sleight of hand
Enter passcode you demand
I press four digits, and up pops your brand.

I check my apps, play some games,
Update, mail, and Facebook old names
Shuffle my music, delete and reply
All the while asking myself "why?"

I'm a consumer gone mad.
The world turns and I'm sad
People die every day, in such horrific ways,
Yet I slide and unlock, and do as commanded.

After all I'm a human re-branded.

fore you guys start reading this, I would like to give you a brief overview of what it’s about. First of all,  I think it’s extremely unhealthy and can only lead to bad things even when you’re in the happiest of relationships. A week ago, I received a very detailed message in the page’s inbox, the first words were “My Confession”. It was from a man who wanted to share his mental weight with someone, anyone. So I started reading it, and it made me tear up after each line. This is about a man (who wishes to remain anonymous), a man who spied on his girlfriend because of his insecurities and trust issues, but the way it ends is just brutal. I’ve edited a few parts out, parts that were a little too much to handle. Believe me, editing this entire piece wasn’t easy, but the guy wanted it published, he wanted to world to see the dark side of relationships, and so here it is. I hope you guys have an easier time reading it than I did while editing it. It’s going to be in his own words, exactly how he sent it (with a few parts cut out because of certain restrictions).

My Confession: I spied on my girlfriend for a month, she’s my ex now

Hey “A” and “Z”, I’ve been an avid fan of yours for over two years now. I just LOVE the way you talk about relationships and how pure they are, it kind of burns my heart sometimes because I never received that purity, all I got was trauma and hatred out of love. I don’t know you guys personally but I love your work and I know you guys help people out too while keeping things anonymous. I would like to send in my confession, confession of spying on my girlfriend for a month. This wasn’t easy, writing all of this down just reminded me of what I went through, but I badly want to share it with someone. I actually want the world to know that relationships aren’t all “happy and nice”, some relationships are straight up brutal! While I gave it my all, it just wasn’t enough, and I had to find the truth through different means, means I’m not proud of today but I’m at a better place knowing that I’m not being made a fool of anymore.

Her name was *. We met through work, she used to work in the same place as I. We started off being very normal friends. Slowly but surely, our conversations started becoming meaningful, they went from being “just about work” to “about life”. This is where she started showing me her weak side, and it was pretty weak. I believe that when a woman shows you her vulnerabilities, she wants you to be in her life. And after a few months, I started having feelings for her, they just kind of developed on their own. I started noticing the increase in the number of calls, messages, hangouts etc. It was all happening so naturally and I was falling deeper in love with her. At this point, I was still too afraid to ask her out because we had a good friendship going and I didn’t want to ruin it. But this had its toll on me, I started getting possessive about her, it started bothering me. She used to have this other friend at work, he was better looking than I was, and I’d always been pretty insecure about my looks, so I started creating a distance from her and thought she’d be better off without me (yeah, I’m pretty pessimistic about myself).

After a few days, she noticed the change in the way I talk to her and she started complaining. That’s when she showed me the first sign of “having feelings” for me. That’s when I realised that I stand a chance and I shouldn’t be afraid. So, after a lot of hours of overthinking, I asked her out. To my surprise, she said yes instantly! I was over the roof! I can’t even describe the feeling in words, I just can’t. I was euphoric, I hadn’t felt such happiness before in my life. To be accepted by someone you have feelings for is a huge feeling, more than words can describe. So we started going out. Our entire office knew about our relationship, even the “good looking guy” (keep him in mind, he is important to this). We were crazy together! Exactly how you guys describe “good and healthy relationships” in your articles and page, we were exactly like that. We used to read your articles together and tell each other how happy we are and how many good qualities match.

Things were going pretty good for us. We used to have our usual fights and arguments, but they were pretty simple and used to sort of fix themselves. It was heaven for me, I’m not kidding, heaven. It was surreal. Even after 7 months of dating, we never got bored of each other. Things were just awesome. Except for one thing, she had a habit of using her phone a lot, even when we were hanging out, she used her phone 90% of the time in intervals. I used to complain about it from time to time but it never used to work. Technology these days, it can work both ways, for both good and evil. With apps like Snapchat, Whatsapp etc. you can basically do anything with anyone without the world knowing about it, it’s that scary.



I slowly started getting paranoid when I noticed that she’s online on Whatsapp even after we are done talking and we’ve said our “goodnights” and “I love yous”. Her “Last Seen” was off so I never knew when she was actually sleeping. I never discussed this with her but I spoke to a friend about it. He said it’s nothing. He said that it’s probably a bug that shows the wrong status of being online. And I wanted to believe that, so I trusted in that statement and let it go. But deep down, my paranoia was still growing more every day. But believe me, I tried fighting it as much as I could. I even started getting “busy” tones more often when I called her. She used to tell me she was talking to her brother (who lived in another state). And I used to try to believe her.

One day, it happened. We were out for dinner and she had gone to the bathroom, this time she didn’t take her phone with her (she always used to take it with her). My heart started racing because I badly wanted to have a look inside that phone, I wanted to see if something was being hidden from me, If I was being lied to. But I also didn’t want to be more paranoid, so I tried fighting myself. But after a few seconds, I justified it in my head. I told myself that I’m probably not going to find anything, and then I’m probably going to be mad at myself for looking and it’ll all go smoothly. It didn’t go that way. I opened her phone up (it didn’t have a passcode on it), and I went straight to Whatsapp. I found a very long and intimate conversation she was having with the same good looking guy from the office. It went on and on, in great detail. They used to meet up, she used to go over to his place (while I was told that she’s going over to a friend’s house). It was all there, right in my hands, a year’s worth of relationship down the drain. A year’s worth of feelings down the drain. It was bad, my hands were shaking and I couldn’t feel anything for a few minutes. But I wanted to catch her cheating, so I got a grip of myself, held my tears and put the phone back.

And that’s when I started “spying” on her. I used to be very aware of what she was saying, of where she’s going etc. I was heartbroken but I tried my best to be the same in front of her, to not show any sign of sorrow or regret but it was killing me inside to not push her out of my life. It was disgusting. One fine day, she told me she was going to her “friend’s” house. And I actually followed her in a friend’s car. I followed her all the way to the house. It was the same house, the house I was hoping it not to be. The guy’s house, the good looking guy. After ten minutes of waiting outside, I went and knocked at the door. It was him, with a very weird smile on his face, as he looked at me in a state of shock. I forced myself inside (at this point I wasn’t even feeling normal anymore, I was filled with rage) and saw her in his bedroom. I just stood there, looking at her in silence, the tears started flowing right out in front of her and I left, without saying a word. I instantly blocked her from every possible means of communication. She tried contacting my friends, but none of them let her get near me.

It’s been five months since that incident, and I still have a lot of questions that I need answers to, but I just don’t want to spend another minute with her, I just don’t want to waste another feeling on her. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love again, but I surely won’t let anyone play me for a fool again. So, for everyone who’s reading this, please don’t let your feelings go to someone who doesn’t deserve them. Please don’t get cheated on. And for those who have similar experiences, you’re not alone.

Thank you guys for reading this, I would be very happy if you posted this on your website, I really want to know what people have to say about this. Thank you.

Talk to me

If you guys have anything to say to him, please let him know in the comments below, he is going to read them all. As always, stay blessed and keep the love alive.

It was March 5th when we first met. I never imagined you as someone who I will miss because I never thought you would go away. Today is February 13 and I'm missing you more than ever.

Can we have those long talks about our height difference back? Can we regain the jokes we told each other at 3:45 in the morning? But most importantly, can I have you back?

It never occured to me how much I'm missing you until the mark of the second year of your disappearance is approaching. I never told anyone but I'm still hoping your name pops up in my phone. I'm still aching to see you alive again. You're still the name that I put as my passcode.

I just want you to come back again.

Trying to put the words where they belong
I have been writing all so long
A Poet writes what they feel
It could be one’s reality for real
A Poet can write hours after hours
But when a Poet reads what they wrote, it doesn’t sound like the inspiration being spoke
A Poet writes more
But the mind states, there’s more to explore
The night can turn Midnight
It’s those very hours the Poet should be a sleep
But it’s the Poet’s inner emotion soul he wants to keep
Sweat pouring down with a tomorrow that has already came
What have I written?
Is it something forbidden?
I am surrounded by sentences feeling like a gate
But being a Poet, can I relate?
Shadows of me
Darkness no one can see
A Poet doesn’t need a name
It’s a write with an idea that came
Some say, a Poet is nothing more than a game
A Poet writes what’s in their head
Yet sometimes people feel misled
Only a Poet knows when they are a Poet
It’s the confidence to show it
It doesn’t matter if people don’t understand
A Poet will always be in demand
The Poet has the passcode, and it is called “Unload”.

Imma killa artist
I’ll ****’em all wit witts
Mixed wit Lyrics
and twist
Taylored swift
for these nimb witz
I spit stupit dump quick slick ****
You say tan nick, I say tan nic
I sat on it, like Saint Tan Nick
I ain’t a saint, or a snake serpent
You look more like tan nick
Or a fat and ugly Saint Pat trick
you silly rabbit
dixx are for chic
So stop being a ****
My gang green; I'm that sick
You flow like an alien from a different planet
So I capted and planned it
Then left you a-band-did
Hanging all strained
With Caps-locked in
I couldn't have plan it
The way fate planned it
Headed for the top
Like an alien from another planet
You drinkin ale-he-on a comet
Cause you over commit like a hobbit
you haling ions from aliens
with Plannets and Planatons
moving million tons of megabombs
with captian planet and megatron...
you rap like an marvelComic from ComicCon
I can tell from your pic in your biopic
My genome, will change your top pick like Vietnam
I remember V at nam telling me to stay calm
While war waged on
Breakin you down at the crack of dawn
microscopic with Cycloptic biopic
optics with larger profits that pitch forks
At prophets
You still seeing what bra fits
Checking out Al's fits
Stop all that lying
Drop all your bad habytes
I play spades with mavericks
shaving points off the average
Anyone  reading this
Like ****
It's like I'm watching this
Other artist
Get his *** kicked
I stick and move like a hat trick
I’m a savage eatin my many enemies with cabbage.
You'r too weak its on the surface,
I picked you on purpose
Your last verse you forced it
It was the worse-it
Sounded rehearsed-it
Seemed so plastic
Killing you dead serpents
These short tails aint worth it
We charm pets and **** pests a side
And lets the vets decide
where the dead reside
all bets aside
You dark knights never bright
Your end in plain sight
Dead on arrival
Then streaming it on Spike
On late night, drinking sprite on Skype
This ain't even a fight
This aint right
Beating you over the head phones
Until I pick up a dead tone
All because you spit on my mic
You just a flinstone
Your chic an easy bone
Chewing through stone
Thirsty for the throne
you in the way
so you got over thrown
How's that for throne
I’m headstrong in a zone
my own-zone, changing the O-zone
Raising the bar until its all gone
my Pen dragging, the new rome
my golden showers leaving you two-toned
I got the mightiest touch
you too much injury prone
with ***** moans that should be home Moe
No **** but your *** moans
When my black snake moan
Her hormones make her moan
Some I'm home Moe
Dealing with her hormones.
Bi- the way she found photos
Passcode your mobile phone, you
In a Tie-bow, with a Bi-Guy, all tied
getting Dee-*****,
Waving hi, with a smile,
duck-tapped looking into the phone
A selfy, but you weren’t alone,
dude was hung Like a home depot, you hanging off his pole
You looked in love, text read, "waiting for the sequel"
you aren’t a rapper, you stay acting like you are evil,
Deep inside you hide your pride
Working discreet on the side,
wanting no trouble, cause we are all equal and you
stunt double for the village people.

the reason i watch for the small things is because,
you may not know it, but when I walk home from work in the middle of the road, I’m seeing things as if i may never see them again because I don’t know where my mind is taking me.
I spit my prayers through grit teeth, it’s forced from my guardian's mouth when she looks through my feed and texts and tweets at night to fuel her (sometimes) self righteous ego and maintain control over my life.
when she read through my sketchbook that one morning, all i can now see are her invisible fingerprints on the page. I can’t see my words the same because there was a crime.. trespassing into my mind, even though i can’t let myself in. but I’ve changed my passcode and you’re too sloppy to realize that I know what you’re doing.
i’ve changed my locks and committed mental suicide with that key that I swallowed
still inside.

because i know you
because i have felt you
in the shower
in the back of a cherry red
Jeep Laredo
because the last time we spoke
you confessed you ate
Peppermint York Patties
because they remind you of me
because i should have never
been to scared
to say "i'm scared"
because your laugh makes me
laugh
because i see Christmas lights
in your eyes
because i am beautiful to you
because i am always
always going to remember
*** in a motel room
*** on your cheetah comforter
*** on the leather couch
because i will never forget how i felt
like i had died
when i let you go
because your drug habits are
mine
because my passcode is still
bun
because i love you
too much
for myself to carry alone
because i need you to carry it
with me
because i love you
too
much
for myself.

curiosity lingers in my veins
as my fingers type in the
four digit passcode that
holds all your secrets.
the thought never crossed my mind
that maybe i should leave it alone,
it is your property after all.
your property that would answer
all of the questions
that could never leave my lips.
my heart leaped out of my chest
where it shattered on the kitchen tiles.
i yearn for your acceptance,
but i believe that you can never
give me the one thing i ask for.
because if you are in conversations
pleading that your beloved daughter’s
sexuality is only just a phase
when i asked you to keep
it a secret in the first place,
you throw away all of my cries
for your love.
my limbs go numb as the words
are stuck on repeat inside
of my empty skull.
and when i look at you
from across the dinner table,
i can’t help but think that
when we meet eyes,
your mind is full of the fact that
you will never love me
because i am an abomination to your beliefs,
even though we believe in the same thing.
“i should’ve seen it in the way she dressed.”
sorry mom, i’ve always been a ‘tomboy,’ as you’d say.
and no matter how much you try
to push me into being a person i’m not,
i’ll always have this love for you
in the heart that you broke.
or did i break it?
after all,
i didn’t have to type in those numbers.
2111.

1/

That thumb, much uglier than other thumbs, is purple and dull. It reminds me of your mother's right arm. Young and bruised. Your father really liked her skin that way.

At night, they had *** like there would be no other day. Your father rough like a rock and your mother weak like an ant. It was more like marital ****. One thing they discussed in a healthy way; they hid future in a grey safety box to forget the passcode.

When they were trying to **** each other you only could grow and grow.

You are a tree living in a big city. You have no friend to talk to and your brother begins to think that you were born silent. With so much happening inside my root? i heard you breathed. I hear you breathe. I hear you breathe. Please stop.

Or don't. If you stop, i die. If i die, you stop. Or we could become a bird and live near a steel factory. There are so much different ways to die. Why would we choose one?

You wanted to choose three. It was raining hard and you wanted to choose three.

You told me before. You had older brother like skyscraper. Another like asphalt. They did not live at a same place, but soon, they would eat the great wall and become a white china vase. Jesus would break them and mary would not find out. Joseph would have had killed her before.

2/

Hey, i think i know adam. I think he was fishing and drinking from the toilet bowl while the teacher was explaining how babies are delivered. You could not help but imagine your skin down there being cut. Like a film. First take.

You had no action. You were a bark, poor and dead. No one loved you until you pretend you are god.

Actually you are. God.

Actually they do not love you, god. Actually they are afraid of you, god. They think you care about them, god.

3/

Oh god. You don't, do you?

You don't, do you?

Waiting is Nostalgic

I've seen the collage pinned to your arms
thighs stomach and wrists
Pictures you sent to yourself so you

could see what you'd carved with little
paper clips. This is how its always been,
pretty tainted with blood and I'm stuck in-

between sounding romantic about the ugly
lines drifting into our caged minds because
I've been the one wishing, pastel green

rumpled and staring at the column of
warnings disappointed death wasn't one
of them. I'm waiting to get that call, you

know the one. I daydream about how I'd
respond and I still don't hate myself  
more than you hate yourself.

Slivers of glass from my phone screen
stuck in my big toe, bruised knees, sore
throat. I got a noise complaint from my

neighbor upstairs and isn't it ironic?
I'm allowed to swear and in the eulogy
I said **** at least 27 times and 27 was

our number. Was. You're still here.
But how many minutes will tick by?
The first time you counted out 62 pills

and downed them with kale ***** you
snuck from your parents stash in the
unfinished room they always said they'd

fix up someday. The second time: black
ice down the hill by the nature center, chevy
truck flipped, roof crunching down over—


concussion, sprained arm, bruises, health
conditions (heart), too many ambulance
rides and not enough $1000 bills. Specifics?

January 3rd 2018. Swing.
September 20th 2018. Pills spill.
December 7th, my phone is on,

Doctor Who theme song, David Tennant era.
I’m suppressing my anxiety around you,
can’t even whisper. Banter ‘bout death,

back and forth and back is the dot dot dot
at the end of each joke. I strummed 17
melodies we’d written together, you

struck the lyrics and I, the tune and we
named it Chocolate Blue after the candy
colored eyes of a boy I liked in tenth grade.

In The Book Thief, Liesel sees Rudy Steiner
die, I cried at 3am, characters evoke tears
more than real people because twelve

years ago I could only show anger, they
let me stay safe when reality crumpled,
crinkled eyes aren’t only for smiles. 584

pages blamed my personality according to him.
You revealed the abuse I hadn’t considered,
but you don’t see the abuse in that *******

of a house. ******* doesn’t cover the half
of it, but your favorite insult was from a book,
‘****-gurgling fuckbuckets’. Beep. Beep. Beep.

December 8th, 2019. No sound but a flatline.
It’s how I imagined it. A call at 16:57pm. And
isn’t it peace? At least to you it is and maybe

I shouldn’t have fabricated reality. Maybe.
8121900 was your passcode, a collage I
chewed my lips to—delete, delete, save.

Hey mister you are a mistery
Your thoughts were tangled mess of a knot
Your mind has a passcode
Impossible to decode

as I write this I lay in bed on a Friday night. i just saw my friends were at a party.
well friends from a distance.
and then I saw my friend hanging out with my other friend behind my back.
but this is not what saddens me.
what makes me sad is the fact that that could have been me.
but I search deep in myself trying to find a passcode or a key.
to unlock the "normal" part of me.
normal as in when will I talk to only two people and then go home and talk to no one.
hold on I almost let a tear out of my eye.
why is it that me, makayla, sits in her bed this Friday night alone, saddened, broken.
when did I become broken. have I always been?
i beg the question, who fault was this. because if it mine I can accept that, but I must place blame.
if i don't I will just wallow, keep my tears behind the cages of my eyelids, or die.

download instagram, download twitter, download what’s-app, download flickr,
update I-message, update linkedin,
restore photos from iCloud bin
back-up Tinder, back-up Scruff
X’d twitter, doomscrolled enough
access Pinterest, access Ring,
screenshot snapchat, Grindr ding

face-id open, passcode close
settings, delete find your iPhone
close friends, bank app, sort code,
messenger, poke, block, link, follow, repost livestream selfie be real location tag pin dropbox camera notes volume up siri off
Wi-Fi on,bluetooth disconnected 3G 4G 5G
which account do I logon?

safari, google, duck duck go
buy apple, by android,
huawai’s cheap though

forget this for you page
forget this Alexa home
forget this algorithmic poetry
forget this phone

She tells me that she loves me
‘Oh so dearly...’
‘I’d most certainly die of a broken
‘Heart if we were to part...’

And yet her phone has a passcode
Constantly buzz es & buzZZes all
Through the night
And the guys comment on
Her posts
‘You’re so ****...’
‘**** gurl...’
‘You fine...as hell.’
And she laughs but covers her phone
When she’s with me...

It’s hard to sleep in peace next to
A *****
It really is...

A T.V Turns On

"- In other news, the former Owner of a booming business has recently disappeared under certain unusual circumstances, Kathy?"

"That's right John, Mr. Hart, Age 60, was presumably going home one night, but his wife, Ellen Hart, Age 59, says he never made it back home. Ellen had thought that maybe he went out drinking with a couple of his co-workers and simply forgot to call home and let her know. However, when he didn't return home at his usual time Ellen then called his cellphone, but when he failed to answer she then called the authorities. Arthur Hart, his son, Age 30, was called in by police after being listed as a Prime Suspect but stated that the last time he saw his father was when his father gave him the Hawaiian branch of the family business. Having moved out to Hawaii shortly after the promotion, Arthur says he found himself incredibly busy and hadn't found ample time to visit either of his parents, and several co-workers further verified him having never left Hawaii long enough - or at all - to potentially kidnap or **** his father. The list of Suspects however is surprisingly short, frustrating Authorities and confusing those close to Mr. Hart as to why he even has any. The Son is now set to inherit the whole business, worth just under 5 billion, making him one of the youngest billionaires to exist! Furthermore -"

A T.V Turns Off

A man rises up from a desk, where a name plaque sits innocently, oblivious and unaware of the fact that it can no longer do its job. The man turns towards it, smiles at the plaque, picks it up and - almost as if it was a chore - tosses it into wastebasket beside the desk. The man then turns back around and leaves the formerly busy office, turning towards a firmly and passcode locked door. The man unlocks the door, opens it, walks in, and shuts it firmly behind him. Walking over to the lone freezer sitting almost innocently in the middle of the room, the man smiles yet again as he opens it with an air of laziness, now grinning wide as he speaks to the blue lipped, wide eyed, gentleman inside -

- The plaque is still unaware as it is lifted up and placed back upon the desk, it seems to proudly display its engraved name as it shines in the light -

"Hello Father"

- Sr. Hart

I can feel the peering glances from a world that watches in black and white
Still, I hold your hand, unwilling and defiant,
When I kiss you in hues their screens cannot colorize

How can I embrace you outside of these mindless walls?
Walls that have been breaking and burning since they were built, and yet refuse to let us pass or even slip through without the correct passcode

I hear stories of our recorded tragedies, under the name of progression without action...
Without promise

If you find the courage, hold my hand, and let me guide you across the silken web high up in the sky
Rope strung by an audience of unblinking eyes that follow and stare, waiting for the DROP!

But even with the attention of fleeting bystanders, I'll whisper to you, through our unknown reputations,
“Secrets aren’t meant for lovers”

My dear, do not look back, nor fall victim to the mobs that rage behind glass curtains
I’m here to help you wave your pride along the double spaced lines they had set for us,
To show them a place, unimaginable, in the streets outside of the dim lit closet that had consumed our being

Will you love me honestly?
Without keeping me incognito on the tabs of your laptop,
And make our history public for all of those who wish to watch in color

I pity the people who’ve switched their channels to grayscale
So that they may ignore the other pigments in the color wheel
But one day, they will learn to accept us before the roaring cloud
As your love in every combination of red, green, blue finds itself in the storage of my soul

Why do we apologise at night
Because of the champions league
Increases the propensity to win
And nights are for action
That joy may come in the morning
Afterall, stars shines brightest at night

When we apologize at night
We are sure of "The promised land"
Maybe not night like night
Bur definitely before dawn
Oh! How I relish those fine moments
A night of bliss and "jollification"
Afterall, "Who pride help"

Other times when I say "Sorry"
It's to allow the night shift run smoothly
So, we can enter paradise
With valid particulars and license
Such we hours are solemn
It's not a time to be proud
Be calm and yet intentional

Sometimes, in your dreams
In the deadness of the night you hear
"Please wake up, i want to talk to you"
Say, "I am sorry", even if you aren't
You know what? That is wisdom
Such sleepy nights, not for "Koboko"

Men, so powerful and strong by day
And weak at night...
Let me warn you, be prepared
It might come with requests
And your answers can only be "Yes"
With a fully charged "Koboko"
Heaven help you if the gate is suddenly shut

I just love apologising at night
It comes with benefits and memories
It makes it soothingly gratifying
To optimize your performance at sunset
Say "Sorry", then worship in her altar
But you must have her "Passcode"
Else, you are no better than a rappist

At such special times Ladies
The Mumu button is all yours
Use and press it wisely
That's the time to ask
Afterall, a promise is a debt
And a promisor is enslaved to a promisee
That's how powerful a woman is
Let me just call it "Bottom Power"