Tonight
We tried to be our fucking best,
but fucking best isn’t what it used to be.
So tonight I’ll let go of my worries,
and for once I’ll just go crazy.
Gulping in the midnight air,
we run until tears of sweat drip down our skin.
Away from the ones who know best,
and the dreams we once believed in.
Forget and just be with me now.
Let’s live like the world is ours for the taking.
Scream until you cry from despair,
and dance until the world is shaking.
No one gives a shit, why should we?
Take back everything you have given them.
What they don’t see is their own loss,
and turn that effort into mayhem.
Break the hands that hold you back,
and wrench free of your own expectations.
Before long the night will turn day;
so for now, give in to your temptations.
When You Fell from Heaven
Yes, yes, laugh away,
you stupid little harpies in disguise.
For I know the truth of you,
and your golden halos can’t fool my eyes.
Your simpering laughs,
your pathetic quips constantly grate against me.
No, I didn’t leave the heat on.
Yes, it hurt when I fell from Heaven.
You’d think messengers of the Almighty
would find new material after a few centuries.
Oh, the irony.
That of the two of us, you’re the bullies.
And you don’t even know it,
Believing your wings shield you from scrutiny.
Demon I may be,
But ignorant I have never claimed.
You made your decision, I made mine.
You see the world in black and white.
I believe in grey, but the Almighty
doesn’t agree, therefore I'm the one shamed.
Evil is evil
Even evil done in self-defense.
The girl had no choice
and when I helped, you gave me this sentence.
It still hurts, you know.
Where you, once my friends, ripped my wings from me.
But down here, at least no one lies.
There are no false saviors, no blind loyalty.
And honestly, compared to that,
this is where I’d rather be.
Transient
The young woman sighed deeply as she trudged towards the bus stop at the end of the street. It was dark out, late evening, and the air was humid yet cool due to the recent rainfall. Despite the exhaustion that drug at her bones from a long day’s work, the woman found the night air refreshing. Rain always made her think of new beginnings.
She approached the sheltered bus stop and was pleased to find it empty. Though the city was generally safe, anything can come out once the sun went down. She sat down on the bench and settled in to wait. The bus wasn’t scheduled to arrive for another half hour and her eyes felt heavy with fatigue. She shook herself to alertness; can’t fall asleep here.
She mindlessly watched the cars go by, splashing water as they went, but thankfully none of it reached her. She kept herself awake by going through the list of chores that needed completing once she made it home. Annoying, but being an adult meant doing the dishes before they fell from the precarious tower you had stacked up in the sink.
“Is this seat taken?”
She startled at the sound of a voice. She looked to her right and found a young man wearing a black hoodie with the word YOLO stylized across it. She blinked at him, confused, because she hadn’t even heard him approach.
He gave her an awkward smile, still waiting for her response.
She shook her head, embarrassment making her face flush. “Oh, yeah! You can sit down. It’s fine.” She moved to the far end of the bench, giving him ample room to sit.
The young man smiled and sat on the other end.
Silence ensued.
The young woman casually tried to steal a peek at the man. Apparently, the weather had him down or he had never left his teenage emo phase, because he was dressed in all black. Skinny jeans, converse, hoodie, even his hair was pitch black. It should have looked ridiculous because he had to be twenty-five at the max, but he pulled it off casually.
The man looked up and made eye contact.
The woman quickly looked away, into the opposite direction. She knew she had been caught but tried to play the sudden movement off as a stretch, raising her arms above her head. The quiet snicker to her right told her he didn’t buy it.
“Just getting off work?” he asked conversationally.
“Yeah, heading home for the night. You?” She looked at him for his answer.
He shook his head. “Nope. Just about to start work.”
She made the customary sound of displeasure that bit of information deserved. “That sucks. I can’t imagine working night shift.”
He shrugged amiably. “It’s not so bad. You get used to it after a while. Although I’m less of a nightshift guy and more of a we-need-you-come-in-now guy.”
A louder sound of displeasure left her throat. “So you never have a set schedule? How do you sleep?”
For some reason he smiled. “I don’t really need a lot of sleep.”
“Must be nice,” she replied. “I wouldn’t survive, that’s for sure.”
He snorted, clearly amused. “Most don’t.” He continued to snicker like he had just made a joke, but she didn’t understand what was funny.
“What do you do for work?” she asked instead. “Not many jobs require you to be on call like that.” She wasn’t sure why she continued to talk to a stranger she’d just met, only that something about him drew her in. He was intriguing, she decided. Familiar and inviting, like an old friend.
The man shrugged. “There’s a whole bunch of different names for it. And it’s surprisingly complicated. But basically, I deal with things that are going to expire soon.”
“So…like the FDA?” she asked with a frown. “Do you make sure the cheese doesn’t go bad or something?”
He smiled, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “Yeah, something like that.”
“And they call you in for cheese emergencies?” She eyed him skeptically.
“The world of cheese is a very serious business,” he told her sternly. Then the smile he was fighting broke through and the two of them snickered together quietly. “I think you would actually be surprised by how many people die from expired cheese,” he said once he had composed himself again.
“You would know,” she conceded. Then mused aloud. “What a horrible way to go. Just imagine, one minute you’re happily eating the cheese you found in the back of your fridge and the next you’re buried in the ground and your tombstones reads ‘I knew it was too gouda to be true’.”
Beside her the young man snorted so loud she worried he’d busted a lung. He hunched in on himself laughing, shaking his head at her terrible pun. By the time he’s done, he’s gasping for breath. “Cheese jokes? Really?” The look he sent her was judging in the extreme.
She smiled back proudly. “I always have a few ready in queso emergency.”
He groaned. “Please stop.”
“Not a fan of cheese jokes? I think they’re pretty grate.”
Another groan, drawn out and suffering. “I would dis a brie,” he replied, almost reluctantly like he was ashamed to have joined in.
She clapped in approval. “Good one, cheese boy! Your humor, unlike your costumers, is not actually dead.”
He laughed again. “I’d rather my humor be dead than spout cheese puns that leave me forever provolone.”
“Weak,” she booed. “And cheese puns are fantastic. They and I will stick together until the end; ’til death fondue us part.”
He slumped forward in mock agony, clutching at his chest as if in pain. “Please, make it stop.”
“I’ll take pity on you,” she relented. “But seriously, death by cheese? Who would’ve thought?”
“There are worse ways to go.”
“Touché.”
“Have you ever thought about how you’ll die?” he asked.
She blinked at the sudden change in direction. “Um, no, not really. But barring a freak accident, I’m not going to be dying soon.” The man was suddenly not making eye contact with her. “Have you thought about it?” she countered.
A dry smile pulled at his lips. “No. It’s not something I really feel a need to worry about.”
She nodded in understanding. “There’s something about being young that makes you feel immortal,” she agreed. “Like you’re never going to grow older and die.”
“Do you believe in immortality?” he asked.
“Are we talking actual immortality, or figurative? Because Isaac Newton might be dead, but everyone remembers him as the man that got conked on the head by an apple.”
He snorted. “Actual.”
She clicked her tongue in contemplation. “I mean, I’m not conceited enough to think I know everything in the world…So to save myself from looking like an idiot, I’ll say I believe immortality could be possible, but it’s highly unlikely.”
He tilted his head forward in a small nod. “Okay. If you could have immortality, would you take it?”
She thought about it for a moment. It wasn’t a question you’re asked every day, after all. “No,” she eventually said. “I don’t think I would.”
He seemed surprised by her answer. “Why not?”
“Well, partly because you’re asking me. Just me. What’s the point of living forever if I’m going to be living by myself? Watching the world die around me? It’s like the plot to every angsty teenage vampire book ever.”
“What if I let you choose people who could stay with you?” he offered.
She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Oh, so now you have the power to grant immortality? Did they teach you this in FDA school?”
“If you must know, yes.” His dark eyes glittered with amusement. “Now answer the question.”
She pondered for a bit. “No,” she finally answered. “I still wouldn’t want it.”
He cocked his head to one side, intrigued. “Why?”
She chewed on her lip, trying to find the right words. “It doesn’t feel right, you know? The world is just meant to die.” She laughed at her own words. “Wow, that sounds morbid. But it’s like…it’s like cherry blossoms. You wait all year for them to bloom, and even though they bloom for one week, you are happy to see them. Even if it was just for a short time. You feel lucky because you were able to witness something no will ever get to see again.
“If cherry blossoms stayed around all year, they would lose the part that makes them the most unique: their transience. Their beauty would fade into the background because you can see them whenever you wanted. They’re not special anymore.”
She looked at the him, wondering if he was still following. He nodded for her to continue. She went on. “In a way, human lives are like cherry blossoms. If you look at the how long the universe has be alive, we’ve only exist for a fraction of it. Each life is an impossibly short amount of time. We bloom and then we die. Humans know of their own mortality and our entire lives revolve around making the most of the time we have before it’s gone. If the clock never stopped, well…I think I would stop living. I would stop appreciating that one day I won’t be around to see what I saw today. I would forget that the true beauty of a life is fact that it eventually ends.”
“YOLO,” he breathed out, echoing the phrase on his hoodie.
She threw her head back and laughed. “Yeah, YOLO. You only have one life, so live it while you can.”
A contemplative silence came over the man, who frowned lightly at the wet pavement in front of them. She decided not to break it. A sense of gravity had settled between them during the course of their conversation and she sensed he wanted some time to think.
“You know,” he eventually spoke. “I don’t often meet people who turn down my offer.”
She looked at him with a questioning smile. “Your offer?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Most humans reason they could use the time to discover the mysteries of the universe or lead the human race to ultimate peace. Scientists, historians, politicians, even a tamale lady who only wanted to see the sun set over every body of water. Almost everyone wants immortality.”
“But not me,” she answered, still somewhat confused.
“Not you,” he agreed. He gave her a considering look, turning his head to the side as if it would help him on his quest to understanding. She began to get the feeling that more was happening than a simple, hypothetical conversation. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she rubbed at them, trying to chase away the night’s chill.
The tension was broken by the bus pulling up in front of the stop. Part of her was sad that this conversation would end; she would likely never see this guy again. She didn’t even know his name. Regretfully, she stood to get on the bus.
A hand gently took hold of her wrist. The fingers were ice-cold, chilling her to the core. Her breath stuck in her throat and her entire body froze. Instincts she never knew existed inside of her were suddenly screaming, telling her that she was in danger. That she was going to die.
Eyes wide, she slowly followed the hand up to the young man in the hoodie. He gave her soft smile that did nothing to calm the panic inside of her. “I would wait for the next bus,” he told her quietly.
For some reason this was vital information, but she didn’t know how she knew that. “W-why?” she breathed; her voice unable to go above a whisper.
His mouth quirked. “Because YOLO.”
He removed his hand from her wrist. The relief that coursed through her body at being released had tears leaking from her eyes. She stumbled backwards and practically fell onto the bench behind her, shaking like she had just avoided a head-on collision. She reached a hand up and clutched at her chest, feeling her heart racing beneath.
Looking up, she found the young man gazing down at her in sympathy, unsurprised by her current state.
“It’s not often I get to meet people twice,” he said fondly. “I look forward to seeing you again.”
As the trembling of her body slowed, the realization of what was truly happening made her eyes widen. “Why?” she asked him helplessly.
“Because life is short but beautiful,” he answered. “I had forgotten this, but you reminded me. A cherry blossom may be destined to die, but why does it have to be now? Why not let the world see her beauty a little longer before her season passes? I think she deserves it.”
It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. “Why?” she asked again, the tears returning, clogging her throat.
He stepped away, approaching the bus door. He gave her once last smile. “Why not?”
The bus doors closed behind him. As it pulled away, she watched him take a seat. She stared as the taillights faded into the distance and then disappeared around a corner.
Once the bus was gone, her whole body slumped forward. What had just happened? Was that man, was he really…? Feeling overwhelmed and drained she blinked tiredly at the empty road in front of her. She had had a long day, and it was late. It was understandable she was confused. She blinked again, slower this time, until eventually she forgot to open them again.
**********************************************************************************
She woke with a start. Looking around, she found herself slumped over on the bus stop bench. Had she fallen asleep? She checked her purse and saw her wallet and phone were both accounted for. A quick glance at her home screen told her she had been out for almost an hour and had missed her bus. She must have sat down on the bench and fallen asleep, the long day finally catching up with her.
Afraid she would just fall asleep again waiting for the next bus, she used her phone to order a ride. As she waited, she found herself frowning at the other side of the bus stop bench. Hadn’t she been talking to someone? Or had that been a dream?
Her ride eventually arrived, and she sat down in the back seat. The driver greeted her but didn’t bother to say anything else. That was fine with her; she was currently feeling mentally exhausted but not really sure why. She stared blindly out the window, dully watching the city drive by.
She was jolted out of her haze by the sudden appearance of flashing red lights. Up front, the driver cursed quietly under his breath. She leaned forward for a better look and was shocked to see a massive car crash on the road ahead. A city bus had overturned and was currently sprawled across the road, mangled and smoking. A large dump truck was beside it, also beaten up, apparently having hit it. Multiple police cars, ambulances, and even a firetruck surrounded the crash.
“The road’s blocked,” the driver informed her, irritated.
She nodded silently, eyes trained on the wreck.
That was her bus.
She could see her route number on the smoke-stained metal. She took that route most days of the week. She was supposed to take it tonight.
She swallowed uneasily at the sight of sheets laid atop human shaped figures. She numbly sat back in her seat.
Ahead, a police officer was directing traffic around the wreck. The driver continued to mutter under his breath. She stared out the window, unable to look away.
Onlookers had gathered on the sidewalk, transfixed by the destruction just as she was. She watched them watch the rescuers. Saw their fascination.
That was her bus.
The turn signal clicked rhythmically as the driver began to drive around the blocked off area at the police officer’s instruction.
A young man stood slightly away from the group of onlookers. He was dressed in all black and his hoodie had the word YOLO printed on it in bold white letters. He stared at the destruction with the rest of the crowd.
The man suddenly looked up and made eye contact with her. She stared back, eyes wide. She didn’t recognize him, but deep down she felt like she should. He seemed familiar, like a long-lost friend.
As the car passed, he smiled and gave her a small wave. Confused, she waved back. And then he was gone.
The wreck slowly faded behind her as she slumped backwards into the seat. Her mind swirled in circles, reminding her over and over again that she should have been on that bus. That she should be dead now. Her brain kept going back to the man in black. She didn’t know him, shouldn’t care about him.
She inexplicably knew that one day she would see him again.
And, oddly, that gave her comfort.
Crooked
I was born with a crooked tongue,
but that’s alright because yours is forked.
From our sweet lips, grand lies are sung;
our very breath is air we’ve warped.
Every candied word you give me,
does inevitably turn bitter.
I’ll promise you the world with glee,
while crossed fingers make it wither.
Those who are old and—of course—wise,
don’t understand our blood-coated game.
Let them laugh from high in their skies;
in the end, we all bleed the same.