The Contagion
Number One-Forty-Five hurt the most.
For if I could have saved them,
Why did they die, oh why.
If they have truly demonstrated,
Their existence to me, then me
Myself is out of sorts, not them.
Every suicidal opus is contagious,
Wanderer’s to suicide’s door,
Existentialists sweep the floor.
And then there is me, lost
At Sea, drowning under you
And me, my own anatomy.
Now desperate I hate my life,
Lend me a halter or a knife,
All my griefs to this are jolly,
Naught so damn’d as melancholy.
The Joke
There exists a joke so funny that those who hear it die of laughter, drowning in their own tears. This joke is rarely, if ever, told. But it happens to be known by all who walk this Earth, and, likely, those who walk above. The joke sinks, swamp-like, into our minds and actions. We laugh and laugh, cry and cry, oh what am I?
One: Do you get it?
Two: No.
One: It’s a joke, like how we are being made to talk in dialogue-format.
Two: Oh, I get it. It’s Life. That’s the joke.
One: Almost, though not quite, for what is life?
Two: I don’t know.
One: Ah, there you go, now you’ve got it.
Self-Locating Beliefs
Snow falls upon the city of dead dreams. And the greatest detective in a world with no detectives left, rose to answer the phone at what she believed was midnight, but was, in fact, midday. The police were almost as shocked as the detective. No one had been able to escape the new technology in years. But somehow one killer had managed to evade all forms of pursuit and killed hundreds of people. Detective Kiryu was called in, due in no small part to the mass protest and requests for a more human approach. Although the police deemed this a major step back for all forms of justice, they decided a distraction could serve the populace.
Detective Kiryu answered the phone with her usual drunken insults, hurled every which way through Thursday. She could not have been more pleased, as she was payed hourly and the difficult case increased her hours. Kiryu had often favorably compared herself to a drunken Watson, without his common sense. However, now she put on her best detective clothes and set out to the crime scene.
Detective Kiryu arrived at the snow-covered train station, preparing herself for the gruesome corpse.
“We’ve cleaned it all up.”
“What do you mean? How can you find any information?”
“The computer does it all.”
“I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
Kiryu continued the case, finding the lack of evidence concerning. The criminal had pushed a man in front of the train. But there were no witnesses because everyone around was on their phones. It was an ingenious crime. In fact, the only evidence of the crime, was a note left by the perp himself:
A Torn Sugar Sack in the Grocery Store
”You have any clue what it means, Detective?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Well?”
”This killer’s well read.”
A few days later, Detective Kiryu found herself at another crime scene. This one was in a field, made for aesthetic purposes. The fake grass would have to be replanted due to all the blood. And yet another note graced the attention of Dame Kiryu:
The Name’s Rudolf Lingens
“All people with that name had confirmed alibis.”
”Did you go to school? It’s an allusion obviously. A killer’s not gonna put their real name.”
”Worth a shot.“
”I suppose.“
Detective Kiryu made her way to the local library. And by local, there happened to be one a few miles down the highway. No fear, it is due to be shut down shortly. Another apartment building is needed. Kiryu made her way up the stairs to Aisle Five, Floor Six. And found there a girl, no more than eighteen, sifting through a biography.
Kiryu leveled a gun at the girl’s head.
“How’s your life read? A lot of violence I presume?“
”You’d be surprised. It’s mostly just snow.”
”It’s all artificial.“
”That doesn’t matter, it‘s the same everywhere.“
“So you killed everyone because they’re all the same? You killed them because they’re just snowflakes dirtied by the ground.“
”In a way. I killed them because I couldn’t bear to see them so sad.“
“So you freed them. And why shouldn’t I free you.“
”Oh, you should. But you won’t.”
“Why?”
”The same reason you found me here. You see yourself in me. In fact, I doubt you can tell the difference.“
“What are you proposing?”
“I think you are going to let me walk out of this library and continue killing snowflakes. And since you’re the only one who can stop me, I will live without repercussions and punish others until there‘s no one left but you, me, and those like us.”
”You’re wrong, young and naive. It won’t work, I just know it won’t. It can’t.“
”But you can’t stop me, can you.“
Kiryu sat upon the snow covered library stairs and wondered where her life had ended. She decided it was when she stopped studying philosophy. She left behind her hopes and dreams in order to seek a quick buck in the burgeoning department of detective work. Only, she found nothing there but empty promises and lies of a better life. She decided that was what happened to everyone. That was why she couldn’t stop the serial killer, because if the killer is right, what point does Kiryu’s life hold?
Monsters
Under your bed,
In your closet,
Out on the street,
Holding flowers.
Love leads us to
Rain-sleeked streets
At midnight hour
Flowers wilting
And we wish upon
Stars above, that
Our love reciprocated,
Flowers for good luck
Upon rejection, we
Rage against happiness
Upon acceptance, we
Can’t help but think
It an awful lie, and
We beat ourselves
With those flowers