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Eugene Melnyk Mar 2015
The man woke up.

He walked to his refrigerator hoping to find last nights left over veal, but he doesn't.
He thought maybe it's a sign veal is bad in the morning, so he made his coffee and sat down to watch the news.
Linda Sparoski was on talking about Gun rights.
"I kind've want a gun, but it probably wouldn't be the best idea."
He kept watching until he heard someone at the door.
Paranoid, he crept up to the peep hole.
Peering through he saw an elderly woman delivering what looked to be like a package.
"I wasn't expecting anything... **** it must **** to be her age"
He waited until the frail old woman made her way back to the UPS truck and drove away.
He went outside to pick up the box, only to find it very light. Much lighter than he expected.
On the outside scribbled in blue pen was "The man's name" so he knew it was for him.
He saw it was taped up pretty good, kind've how a child wraps a Christmas present.
He grabbed his kitchen knife.
"Scissors are like double knifes, except you don't need a cutting board."
He put the knife back and grabbed a pair of scissors.
"Scissors are ****** double knifes."
He put the scissors back and grabbed the knife.

When he returned to the box, he seemed to stare at the handwriting for quite some time.
He began to cut into the box.
On removal of the layers of scotch tape was a little note before the rest of the box could be open.
"Promise me?"
He was really confused now.
"I need more coffee"
Chugging his third cup, the man returns to the box.
Determined to open it.
He lifts the ***** keeping the pieces of cardboard box cube shaped, and begins to look inside.
The man sees photographs stacked on top of a few letters.
"Possibly something underneath."
As he dug through he saw a picture of himself dressed as Captain America on Halloween.
He tries remembering that Halloween but just can't quiet do it.
"I was never Cap.. "
He dug through more.
Found pictures of old beach houses he vaguely remembers, some pictures almost looked like a sonic drive through.
Stomach growl.
"Last nights quesadilla"
The man went to his fridge, with no luck of finding this cheesey goodness.
In fact his fridge was empty.
He doesn't remember it being empty.
He starts thinking about Halloween.
The man kicks the box under his coffee table, and stumbles to bed, even though it is only 6:47 pm.
Dreams of sand.
Dreams of sand.
Dreams of water.
Dreams of her.

The man woke up.

He heads to his coffee ***.
He has not made coffee yet.
He heads to his refrigerator to find last nights left over lasagna.
"When did I make that? 2 weeks-ago-ish?"
He does not find lasagna.
His coffee is done brewing.
He walks away without a cup to find the box.
The news was still on. Linda Sparracci was on talking about the man's town.
She said that the man's town was experiencing the worst drought since two thousand and sixteen.
"What year is it?"
The man tries to find a calendar but only finds twelve.
"So it could be 2025, 2026, 2028... Wait."
He deducted that it must be 2026, for this calendar had the most dates circled, and he has felt quite busy recently.
The man then fell.
When he came too he was on the couch.
It was snowing out.

Deciding it must be around December  time, he goes throughout his home looking for objects to wrap up and give to his family.
He finds a box.
The box has a note on the outside
"Promise me"
Without looking through the box, he wraps it up with what he can find.  
Thinking of where to send it, he thinks of the first address he can remember, presumably his parents house, and sends the box off.
"Captain America... "
The man decides to watch Duck Dynasty season 34 for the first time, without seeing the prior 33 seasons.
The man passes out.
Dreams of white.
Dreams of red.
Dreams of death.

The man woke up.

He walked to his refrigerator hoping to find last nights left over veal, but he doesn't.
He thought maybe it's a sign veal is bad in the morning, so he made his coffee and sat down to watch the news.
Linda Spurokik was on, talking about the new Captain America movie.
"I was Captain America once.."
The man gets up to feed his dog.
The man does not have a dog anymore.
The man sits down.
Halloween 3 comes on the television.
He remembers getting her roses, because she was mad he didn't want to go trick or treating.
They ending up going trick or treating anyway.
She didn't like the roses.
The man tries to imagine what Michael Meyers must've felt like.
Being cast so many times over because of his creepy plastic face.
"I bet it was really hard to find other work though..."
The man was unsettled with this thought and turned off the television.
With nothing to more to do, he crawls to bed, even though it is only 6:24 pm.
No dreams
Just blackness.

The man woke up.

He heard someone at the door.
Paranoid, he crept down the stairs to the window.
Peering through he saw a young man delivering what looked to be like a package.
"I wasn't expecting anything... **** it must **** to be that young in this day and age"
He waited until the man made his way back to the USPS truck and drove away.
He went outside to pick up the box, only to find it very light. Much lighter than he expected.
On the outside scribbled in blue pen was "The man's name" so he knew it was for him.
When he opens the box he finds a picture of himself dressed as Captain America and she was beside him.
"Even trying to look ugly she was beautiful."
The man begins to cry a bit.
Gently places the picture down, he digs through more.
He finds an old Valentine's Day card.
"Signed your's forever, love you so much"
The man puts the contents of the box back, and gently pushes it under the table.
He turns the television on and Linda Sadok is on talking about a fire.
"3 dead, 2 injured with 3rd degrees burns along 85% percent of their body"
The man states "****" and turns the television off.
"I'd rather be one of the three than one of the two"
The man grabs the last pack of tostitos he can find, and chows down for awhile.
The man dozes off.  

A few hours later the man awakes.
He house is quieter than normal, but he normally has all the washing machines running so he thinks "all good."
Walking to his refrigerator, he finds it filled with Mexican Taco Hot Pockets.
Not wanting to get fat, he rejects this refrigerator and demands a new one.
He does not get it.
Hot pocket.
He walks to his coffee table.
It is very long.
His box is gone.
Befuddled, he walks to his hallway to check under the door.
Upon opening the door, his house leads to another one of his houses.
It is the same house though, it's just his other one.
Walking to the refrigerator, he finds it filled with ingredients for fresh pesto and Texas toast.
Thinking maybe it would upset his stomach. He throws the fridge down his garbage disposal.
On returning to his living room, he sees a man.
This man is talking to the man about life.
Talking about how long could one go on for in the same space.  
This man tells the man, maybe you should **** yourself.
Get out.
The man has never liked suicide.
But given the preposterous conditions of his life, he thinks about it.
This man says a hand full of advil or a few too many sleeping pills could do it.
The man says no.
"I can't leave, I'm not done yet.
Then, this man asks what the man has not finished yet.
"I don't remember..."
This man tells the man, that he is not Captain America and disappears.
The man disagrees.
"Photo evidence"

The man wakes up.

He finds the contents of the box sprawled all over his chest.
He had fallen asleep on the couch.
He hears her say goodnight.
He says I love you.
There is no one there.
He crawls to bed, and it is 2:34 am.
He cannot sleep.
This man returns to him.
This man asks the man if he had finished what he wanted to finish.
The man says no.
This man asks why once more.
"She's still gone, i'm not letting go"
This man says the man already has.
The man rolls over in his bed.
This man says you've been done here for awhile.
The man pretends to be asleep,
motionless, yet awake for hours.

The sun never came up, because he didn't want it too.
The fridge was always empty, because he didn't want to eat.
The box would appear, because he wanted it too.
She was gone, because he knew she was gone.
He stayed, and kept resealing and opening that box. Day in day out.
Surviving healthy off of nothing at all.

He never left.
Not poetry
Not poerty
Kenna Jul 2012
Of course as I have an entire life left to live I am wondering what you ate for breakfast.
You ate a chicken quesadilla.
For breakfast???
...wierdo...
but at least I know now
the suspense was killing me.

Now I can't help but wonder what you did today...
Any photos???
You went the bathroom???
GET OUT!!!!

And of course, I want to hear your 'inspirational' (recycled) quote of the day.
"Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”
(classically overused)
MAN THAT GOT ME SO INSPIRED
I WAS SO SAD BUT READING THAT MADE ME FEEL 100 TIMES BETTER!!
20 likes
WOW YOU ARE A GODDESS!

YOU CHANGED YOUR PROFILE PICTURE????
SCOOOOOOREEEE!!!!
Woah, you look so pretty, you did such a good job with the editing (there is a lot of it).
You look nothing like that in person.....
I like your bra...by the way...
10 likes in 3 minutes!!
DUDE
THIS IS LIVING!!!!

Well enjoy your life with the constant need for approval...
Lets see where that takes you...
AAAAH SARCASM. This is dedicated to my sister who is constantly annoyed by the people with external locust of identity on facebook.
I'm not saying I don't use facebook, but I use it for different reasons.



Thanks For The Update is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
AS Jun 2011
Your friend asked me if I knew I was the daughter of a king

(I slipped a flower under your dorm room door)

reaking of alcohol wrapping his tsitzis around his fingers

(because I saw you crying, and

smoking a joint behind the quesadilla stand)
Aric Wheeler Feb 2014
Chupacabra is my best friend, and Isaac Newton always drank water when he was thirsty.
Don't ****.
Art.

dactyls and fractyls and crystal visions
can't save you from the swim
water constantly up your nose

pass me the honey
honey
pass me the bacon
pig

25 pounds of bananas and all I want is a quesadilla
Stephanie Frank Apr 2017
Dinners under the chandelier
Meaningless chatter and happy laughter
The delicious smell of quesadilla
Drifting through the air from the counter

Grandma rocking in a corner
Little ones sparked before her
Marveling at her skill with the needle
Entranced by the music from Grandpa's fiddle

Stories by the moonlight
Folktales by the fireplace
Connecting dots with the starlight
Losing track of time in space

She never knew the word 'pain'
Then she felt the pain of death
Till the betrayal of Cain
Till she craved the high of ****

Now pain is all she knows
Pain in all forms and doses
Be it through bullets and blows
Or even the thorns of roses

She's grown so used to it
It's started to feel normal
She's grown so accustomed
Without it she's incomplete

As she sits near the cliff's edge
She dares to think of happier times
As she uses her foot as a wedge
She remembers the oven clock's chimes

She remembers mama's cookies
Her favourite was chocolate
She remembers papa's banters
And Nana's beliefs in fate

She recounts Grandpa's pipe
His delicious mixed smells of tobacco and old person
That must be where the crave started
Her crave for the high of forgetting

As the nostalgia washes over her
She dares herself to cry
She removes her footed wedge
And begins to fly

As she flies she feels nothing
Only an empty fortress
A fortress filled with echoes
Echoes of happiness
So here it is, my first piece this year. Hope you like it. Tell me what you think.
You were proud of me 4 days sober
you made me a quesadilla in my honor
you loved me greater than before
and I told you I wouldn't drink tonight
but honey
I'm sorry
I lost the fight
and I know you won't be mad at me
yet it was that light
that I'll miss, as I try to type this.
8/30/14
Dustin Dean Aug 2018
Have you ever given your friend a bad potato?
Because they ate your cheese quesadilla a year ago?
And have you ever shouted at the rain
Just to get it all out of your system?
Maybe you secretly hoped
That cute guy you liked
Would hear you a world away
As you listened to the rain
Drop at supersonic speed

Have you ever thrown a helpless object
At the wall just because you could?
And did you subsequently take a trip
Down that dismal, wistful memory lane?
Maybe it reminded of you
Of that sing along
You and Major Tom did a lifetime ago
That made you a couple drinks
Too late to turn back
To your college assignment
That was due the next day

Maybe life is just a game
Strange and imperious
To our flawed design

Just maybe
I am you
And you are them
We are the world
Le Beau Nov 2019
She already know what we going to do when we're alone.
I **** her down for an hour ¢ then I read her a poem.
Picturing her is tough,
you'd think it'd be easier,
when I dream of her enough,
she's got brown hair with a past that's a little rough,
I mean relatability,
is on the key ring of comfortability,
a good smile,
and the first to kiss or say "I love you" first every once in a while,
a plus if she can write,
and not feel ashamed to sometimes be the first to apologize after a fight,
she's someone not looking to be found,
healthy and (superficially) not super round,
but can eat quesadilla's and chocolate cake in bed,
who listens,
but also knows what needs to be said,
a girl who giggles & smiles at my cheeesyness,
and says that it's ok that my life is a mess,
she makes love instead of *******,
(sometimes a good **** is what we need though)
Knows how to get me oot of my head,
and is self reliant,
but also has trouble watching me leave,
she'll be fine with dancing/singing/kissing me in the rain,
and know all the right words and moves to drive me insane,
thick hair like a mane,
and doesnt care if I'm poor or have fame,
she'll appreciate my crazy music,
and will take care of me when I'm being a ****** when I'm sick,
who wants kids and that awesomely typical house,
she'll be loving and empathetic,
Loving Bob Dylan and dogs,
shorter than I is a must, and know's how to be the sun in my times of fogs,
adventuring but doesnt mind  a good netflix and chill,
her eye's will be revealing,
with every look my heart she'll be stealing,
smooth sexiness withoot the need to be based on touch and feeling,
kissable lips,
grab worthy hips,
a girl I could laugh with for the rest of my life,
an honest wife.

I'll dream of her with a certain notoriety,
hoping I find her,
after a year of sobriety.
My sponsor reminded me that I need to bring all these qualities to a relationship too, so it's closer to the perfect relationship?
****, I don't know what to do about it
at one moment, it is in my grasp
and the next it escapes me
I get lost again, waking up from some sort of high class dream
left again with the coffee, the quesadilla, worries worries worries
trying to just take it day at a time,
when you wake up in a fury you feel like the world has already left for the station
My center lost, now nothing  to do but to read the news, ask the questions
I need to get a lift
harmony crescent Mar 2019
ive been pounding my fists against this wall for days. or has it been years? no. days.
all my love has been ****** out of me. i dont know where its gone. maybe its evaporated, now floating with the stars.
did you know salt water stains leather? or maybe its just tears. not all salt water.
im distant. even thought youre just on the other side, sight, or lack of it, is one of those catalysts. close? youre closer than ever. far away? where are you.
why heaving? im sick of this ****. dry? i havent eaten anything since the **** quesadilla.
um... yeah. ive started cussing. a regret.
Kay Jul 2020
spit it out

**** it out

shift it out

sift it out

sit on it a while and stop what you're doing

the fire dance can't last forever

so just sit back and relax while I make a whole *** quesadilla

and you watch me eat it.

I aint giving you none of my quesadilla
Jay earnest Oct 2023
I made a quesadilla
With some anchovies and ham with some eggs waffles and syrup & a glass of chocky milk
My belly is full
& my **** aches
Tomorrow I shall go out fishing in the prairie; my cat
Died and I'm tired of sitting around. It gets heavy in this heart , it gets hot in this
cage
The longer i stand the more I
suffocate
The chicken drips wax and the turkey shimmers heat
As he eyes you across the table
Lost in thought, gazing at the heatwaves
Rising from the oven, slow roasted potatoes
Crunch underneath your cold teeth
Your friends reach across the table
And let the flames sting their fingers
Enveloping their skin, dancing
On the edge of pain, pushing your limits
The refried rice washes up and down
In his mouth, silence fills his thoughts
His mood is detached and he's at one with
Nature, in harmony with art
Lost in the immaterial, buttery cheesecake
Feels soft in between your metal fork
It bends and weaves in and
Out of steely prongs, candles and wine
Decorate and illuminate the
Soft laughter, dim lighting making
Everyone's faces look like a silhouette
He eats with a spoon alone at a
Table of forked intentions
More beer, please, for the Sad-Eyed Boy
And his appetite for pretentions.



Yes deadboy (anagram)

Nothing is happening.
leaves and curry.
Kale and quiche.
Quesadilla relief
Knish and Pepper.
Cartoons and cereal.

we are gathered around this table today
candlelight illuminating our silhouettes
the lights are dim and the food is warm
the laughter is soft, and dizzying
the edges of my memory are going fuzzy
actually nothing
violins melting into screeches
faint stress crying in the background
Travis Green Nov 2021
I’ll do whatever it takes to be your fantastic lover
I’ll show you what a real man can do
Don’t underestimate my flex
I can make you feel better if you give me the time

Just let me stroke you up and down
I can make the loving last all night
When I take control, I can go for hours
And devour you like a delicious quesadilla

I don’t need a special spell
My love is enough to make you feen for my touch
Baby, I am a superstar; I know how to make you sparkle
Marvel at my artistry as I unravel your heartland

I promise I will take it gently; you will feel my serenity
Infinity is where I wish to go with you
I want to make love and trust in one another
We can rock to the sultry ballads
Let the beat use us as we drift further into nirvana

— The End —