The Traitor: I

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...possibility that once they’re inside they’ll never come back out and freeze up at the cave entrance. They listen to the rumble inhale and exhale. Transistor and apostle, each with a gun in their hand, transmutations on Isaiah’s and scripture on Finn’s.

“So…” Finn begins. “Yeah, looks pretty bad,” he says.

“Pitch black, you mean!” Isaiah says.

“Yeah, that too,” Finn responds. “In?”

“I guess?” Isaiah questions whether or not they should turn around. The longer they stand there, the better of an idea it seems to just run away. “Before we change our minds,” he says and they walk inside. Isaiah’s gun shines gold, Finn’s purple and then gold, just enough to...

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Before The End

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The rumble of the earth quaking viciously collapses entire mountains and erupts volcanos firing bright orange magma. The neutral sky rains blood as the clouds part blasting a black mist beam onto the ground below, ungodly rays.

The leafs and bark on all the trees go dark and fall leaving an ash graveyard.

Wings on the Adonis with a golden glow falling from the sky, staff in hand, slow the drop and halt him atop those watching below.

The clergy united side by side with the fight for power, the celestial cowards bent on resetting the mindset to maintain control. Mere hours before the kid shows.

The last stand. Allister watches from above, crown on his head fist of his left hand eager to overthrow the old way. He must rule over those lost and show them the cost if they disobey.

Allister preaches of the day they’ll wreck for reckoning. The troops ready for war.

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And Then It Was Quiet

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And Then It Was Quiet

...tears in her eyes tells me it must be beautiful
She only cries when bad things happen to the good people
During romances and horrors
But of course during dramas
When face to face with great art
When a good song is on

Bright cloud yells bang
They won’t let us run
It’s no fun watching the sun be outshined
There is no one left inside
Empty houses
Yellow...

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Soldiers Play Hangman

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Soldiers Play Hangman

...through this area in at least a day’s time. I remain on edge today more so than any other day. My gut tells me something is wrong.

My squad has been fortunate enough to avoid crossing paths with enemy forces. Now we’re deep in hostile territory dodging trip wire explosives as we close in on our target and I’ve not yet fired a single round.

As my squad races up the hill through the forest John and Dave slow down having just shy of the hilltop in such an unsettling fashion the hairs on the back of my neck and on my arms stand and an electric shock races down my spine rattling my whole body.

I’m not certain why they’ve halted the way they have and they’re not...

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Dead Black Boy

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Dead Black Boy

It’s difficult to know what to do in these kinds of situations.

Stainless is the steel tip of the berretta pistol I’m holding to the back of his head. Stained conscience stops me from pulling the trigger, but I find myself stuck here.

“Gang activity” is what they’ll label his murder. Another dead black boy lost within the numbers. A meaningless statistic. They won’t even remember his name and all I have to do pull the trigger. But I can’t seem to do it. Can’t seem to kill this nigger...

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When A Bleak God Calls

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Even the fire is metallic in this unstimulating hell. Cooked rotten meat licked and scorched by the sunrise flame.

The air tastes of burnt plastic and copper from the wires I crossed to start the fire. I’ve been too lost to admire the lovely structure inspired by scientific miracle and horrid nightmares.

I’ve begun to question the purpose of the wall. It stands tall harassing me up into forever. It must be god. The wall is god and I am no more than its subject. Absurd, but it’s the best guess I have for where I am. Either I’m at the end or at the beginning of the world.

The meat still tastes rotten. I’d nearly forgotten when I got lost staring at the wall, but there’s the thought again and with it came the taste. It doesn’t go away. And If I was okay with dying today, which I wish was the case, I’d go away. But I’m scared and fascinated. It’s not fair that I can’t help but procrastinate on my death just to see what fate awaits.

Two days or three weeks have gone by and this road is bleak and I don’t checkout of the ride.

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Time Traveling Writer

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He’s watching the keyboard with a truly profound visceral confusion consuming his right eyebrow twisted lower than the left. Frozen in time is all of him but his hands as they type away seemingly gibberish text. They’re communicating a message to the future. Telepathic text traversing time to relay the past. The busy hands write to this reader from a foreign land.

They tell of a writer struggling to find what to write. They beg for information from the future. “If you have the ability to time travel send back what we should be writing right now so we can write it.”

A tear in the space-time continuum blinds the writer and it fade to nothing leaving behind a singular sheet of paper which says “If you have the ability to time travel send back what we should be writing right now so we can write it.”

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Little Asskicker

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...of some wannabe thugs
Childhood lack of hugs led them to rise above hard working lives and join the drugs
They decided to get tough
We decided to fuck them up
And now we gonna get jump
But my little bro’s a black belt with anger problems who just got dumped and felt some type of way about it
I tell them they don’t want the sauce
This spaghetti is too much
They’re not ready
They go hard like raw noodles
Snap the crew in too, though
A spinning back kick stirs the dish
They moan and bitch
The cheesy smile on my face as my bro makes his rounds
The sound of their cries...

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A Day In The Hood

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...shit get real”
“We men, we don’t run!”
“We die right here!”

The young naïve white boy cop spots these kids
Hot headed and ready to knock someone out of their socks,
But he’s scared he’ll be called a racist bad cop,
And he turns the other cheek,
Refuses to do his job,

Those teens did what they planned to do that day,
But got spotted and followed to their homes,
To their moms,
Where ever they stayed...

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Final Thoughts

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...repercussion of my poor choice. A death which could have been avoided easily had I just decided to lead my team out of the battlefield. But I didn’t because of a singular dramatic moment I had with a stranger where I promised him that before my men and I evacuate the battlefield I would come back and rescue him and his family, all whilst knowing how unrealistic it was to assume we’d bring them back just because.

It happened in the middle of a field. He told me, “All I want is to leave and give my family an opportunity.”

And without much thought to the matter, because it sounded...

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Salt

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...against the restraining forces of gravity cripple. Inhaled gulps of salt are coughed and sneezed at once with half full lungs caught somewhere between an inhale and exhale, cup half empty.

The wobbly discombobulated mirage of the sun sort of shines through, but not really. More like its idea mirages by or superimposes itself over the...

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The Good Guys

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...Slow this chit chat and shoot back!
Unless you want to be dead meats by a couple of deadbeats. ”

“White boy is right. Focus, man, fight back.” Tyrel says and squeezes the trigger
“Like that!”

Across the parking lot members of the opposing gang
Alongside the cops they were exchanging merchandise with
They’re closing in
Tyrel, Antwan and Jonathan retreat
They go from cover to cover
Car to car
Trying to make their way further
But the gunshots don’t stop
They formed a firing line
Thugs and cops
Afraid to be imprisoned for breaking the law.

Little crimes they’ve committed
Pastime they’ve never admitted
They go unforgiven
By those they’ve involved
Those unwilling...

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A Hero Suddenly Appears

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...above the still waveless ocean. Migrating birds with thick feathery wings hunt the schools of fish scattering and jumping from the water. The sun’s fight to the top of the sky illuminates the bubbling ocean surface. It’s as if boiling as the fish attempt to escape whatever comes from below.

The waters bubble more intensely and the fish scatter opening way for the tip of a black pyramid gradually rising. It rises and rises and goes high enough to graze the clouds. At the very bottom of the black pyramid is a gap big enough to fit a person. Before it a path begins to emerge from the water, made of grey stone.

The morning skies become grey and cloudy as a lightning storm forms from a perfect day. Thunder roars and quakes the pyramid and the stone walkway. Pieces break from the walkway and sink to the bottom of the ocean...

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To The Grave

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The gentle stroke of the keys as grand as the piano they’re played on rang and danced along the walls of the theatre. Papa’s talent was the thief of breaths and master of awe. The pin drop silence of the theatre when he played was something to behold. A moment cherishable with the fondest of memories. A performance which radiated a warm velvet aura riddled with subliminal hypnosis.

It was the loveliest of experiences. It could have only turned out better had you been there with him, Mama.

-          From Jane

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The Darkest of Them All

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A straight stride has proven fruitless and aimless as time makes no difference. Walking for an infinity no longer than a week, starvation begins to sink in. Madness has long since stricken, although the stride has not been affected.

Broken dissolved vocal cords rasp with every breath. Destroyed by the screams held for days with hopes that someone would hear my pleas for mercy, with no avail. A torn bloodied forehead shows white bone bits cracked by my skulls repeated impact against concrete. Fingernails broken off by all the attempts to hatch another.

Debating whether to lay for rest and die as a means of escape from this merciless prison I see a shadow ahead. A dark figure piled into the corner where the wall and…

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Across The Mirror

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That across the mirror isn’t me
It mocks me when I say I am
Laughs to my face with a twisted smile and a malicious stare
Both of which I’m sure I don’t display
When eyes watch me they see it as if I don’t exist
And I ask why, I ask how do they see it and not me
So it tells me that I am the reflection
That I am but a mere illusion of the truth across the mirror
It tells me that my entire world is of self-deception and denial
And I refuse to believe its lies when I know that I am
But it’s always watching
With a smirk on its face
Ready for when I look its way

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A Written God

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...this world began to form within the text. It wasn’t clear what I was looking at when I began, but as I continued the things written earlier became clearer. And I’d go and I’d make tiny adjustments to keep things consistent throughout the entire text. And these people within the universe I created developed personalities and lives. And as I continued to write they had families and friends. Loved..

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Miriam

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...catastrophic pileup on the highway by a middle school in the middle of an afternoon. “Fucking asshole! Ugh!” She walks off in the opposite direction and shuts the front door that was apparently open the entire span of the argument.

The kids are already upstairs avoiding dad’s angry yelling. Hiding in the best most quiet hiding spot.

Moments later Miriam is back in the kitchen eating the wine bottle through a frustration induced tomato face. Vibrant deep red wine drains into the glass and then out, over and over in rapid succession. Throwing the empty bottle in the...

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