The clock counts down, quick!
Ready the table and drinks.
A party begins.
Crime Scene
A soft evening: misty rain and candlelight,
Comfort food feeding a patient appetite.
Flames lick at the feet, warm and bright,
Match the heat within, out of sight.
A thrill of danger snaps with a bite—
The game of deception taking flight.
Charmed laughs and blushes might seem trite—
They kill silently without fight.
A fool falls from imagined height,
Crushed beneath a vengeful might.
Screams of horror, such delight—
Farewell now, have a good night.
Ode to the Workaholic
A crackle of energy and motion,
Hands quivering with a sudden notion:
Hurry, hurry, seize the day;
Keep the pace until you’re gray
—damn, do I need a lay.
Tuning
Shrieks ensue shrill cries.
The symphonic notes rise high.
A string quartet sings.
♪♪♪
Ode to Research
Describe to me the world from below,
The scary creatures we can not know.
A galaxy of knowledge within a drop,
Forever changing without stop.
Put eye to scope and remark with glee,
The hidden kingdom for all to see.
A strange collage that inspires hope,
Seizes the mind like restless rope.
Quickly now! Observe and note!
A good habit learned by rote.
A thousand cures lie ahead.
Let it pass not unsaid.
Limerick for an Awful Office
Once there was a busy room,
With no windows like a tomb.
I miss the daylight.
Save me from this plight!
Days repeat in endless doom.
Invisible
People stare and frown;
My skin tickles and grows cold.
They do not see me.
Empty Planet
The world died centuries ago, leaving a scarred carcass behind—an empty planet full of empty cities. A fiery horizon burns in the lonely wasteland known formerly as the Mojave Desert; a solitary figure travels seeking justice.
Justice for the past.
Justice for the dead.
Justice for a soul that doesn’t deserve it at all.
He clutches a broken timepiece to his chest, imagines he can hear the mechanical ticking. A relic from the ancient past, outdated even before the world ended. Sometimes he uncovers fragments of objects he can’t even name; other times the sudden familiarity of a fractured watch triggers such emotional upheaval that he has to stop for the rest of the day.
He remembers someone waking him in the morning. A cheerful voice shouting, “Up and at ’em, lazy!” and a hand brushing his hair messily.
“Sun’s almost peak.”
He marvels at the timepiece. So much knowledge lost.
A hot blast of air tousles his hair, obscuring his field of vision for a moment. The watch’s face stares up at him and the weakness in him whispers to stop. He has nothing to live for, but at least he’s still alive. Isn’t that enough?
Grains of sand speckle the watch. He lets them fall gingerly, feeling numb.
No more waiting. Time’s up.
A Curious Hermit 