But with rhyme
I find words to write
During the in between time
A friend is visiting
But we've yet to meet
I was ready at six
Yet at nine, her work day's not complete
Mucus has invaded my brain
Making my eyes twitch and my nose run
I sit here and wish for more rain
Allergy season is no fun
With time, my thoughts turn to love
I am blessed to receive so much
Still, I yearn for true love's touch
the calendar tapered to my bed-frame hangs low and remains unused
Sleep is flitting, though I long for it to caress me
The dim glow of my monitor engulfs my jaw, the rim of my glasses,
they sulk from my face
Equally in wait of sleep to fall.
squinted eyes press tiredly into the back of my skull.
i drift inwardly.
Speaking verse in a noiseless enfoldment
with a pen never quite able to kiss the parchment of strewn-about paper.
Cupping the hollow of my cheek
and speaking sweet nothings to my own ear.
I am cloaked in the indenture of sweet lies
I shudder at the warmth of my own breath
sometimes forgetting to breathe.
I flinch at my moon-laden skin
not yet bathed in the tongue of the sun.
I laugh silently at the dryness of my mouth.
longing for the morning glow to take shelter in my room.
but it never does.
I couldnt possibly allow it to peel back my frail curtains
or sever the blackness that pierces the hull of this room.
It passes and i stare wearily.
For its lack of remittance.
I only wish to let you partake in my solemn remarks
to grasp a warmth unbeknownst of ruinous await.
But, like the sun
you soon shall pass.
basking idly until the moon strives to take your place.
Pen to the Paper 21
Nick grabbed my tie and adjusted it for me. "Thanks, man. Was it that bad?"
"I didn't know someone could wear a tie that poorly."
"Well, dang. I'm usually pretty darn good at it. On the bright side, this isn't what I'll be wearing for the show."
Nick made a spinning gesture with his hand. "Looking good," he said.
"Good, at least the rest of me isn't a mess."
"Oh, no. Your hair looks awful. You just pull it off well."
"What!?" I exclaimed, rushing to the mirror. "Oh, right, I'm still nearly bald. Ha ha, great joke, Nick."
Nick beamed at me, satisfied with his joke.
"Yep, I'm ready, Nick. Do you have what I'm going to change into ready?"
"Yep, it's ready. You'll see it right once you walk in. Can't miss it."
Nick slapped me on the butt and said, "Go get 'em, tiger."
A small red light emanated from the stage. It widened slowly then vanished, being replaced by a pink light. A purple light followed, going by the same pattern. When the red began to fade once more, something pink and solid began to grow on stage instead of the light. First it budded, then it began to bloom. It was a flower, and in the middle of the widening pedals was your handsome host, holding a bouquet of pink and purple flowers. I was also wearing a bikini.
"Happy Mother's Day to all you lovely mothers out there!" I called, stepping out of the flower like Aphrodite from the sea. I put one hand on my waist and stuck my hip out to the side. "My mother would be so proud. Love you, Ma!
"Speaking of Ma, we recently went on a road trip. I think I mentioned it last week. We left town to run a marathon. Anyway, on the way back home, we stopped at this gas station because my Ma loves the place. No, it's not Casey's, the Midwestern gas station known for its great pizza (that I think is kind of overrated). No. It's Buccee's.
"Now, I've been to this place a few times. We always stop there on the way to and from Wisconsin. And I hate it! I absolutely hate the place.
"I'm anti-social as heck. Introverted to the core. The moment I walk into that place, I want out. There are people everywhere!!! The building is literally overflowing with people. It's like a pot boiling over. I just tuck my shoulders in, make a shark fin in front of me with my hands, and weave through the traffic, sweating like a pig. I walk into the bathrooms, and it's a room bigger than my house, filled with toilet after toilet. That's the only good thing about the place.
"Leaving is worse than entering the bathroom. And if you stop for lunch, you're better off going to a restaurant, because they expensive.
"I hate it with a passion." I pulled up the strap on my shoulder. "How do you girls wear these things? This is uncomfortable. And my shoulders hurt. Stupid little plastic things… I feel like Spider-Man in the elevator. Didn't make it myself, though.
"Alright, guys. Pen to the Paper 21 is here!"
A flower erupted underneath me, wrapping around me and forming a beautiful tulip.
At the bottom of the elevator, I stepped off the platform. I turned around to see Nick. "DON’T you even THINK about it!" I said, putting my hands over my posterior.
Some people don't believe that lands like mine exist. They think there are no such thing as dragons and fairies and little bee stings that give you nightmares.
My land does exist.
It is full of dragons. Those that taunt and burn you. Those that tear you little corner of the world apart.
There are little hidden fairies that bring little hidden joys. They grab onto your hand and take you places that you would have never gone on your own.
There are nightmarish stings of bees. They prick your skin and find a way into the deepest corners of you mind and make you walk in a living nightmare.
My world isn't different from yours. Not physically. It is the same. full of bullies and friends and toxic people.
My world is called Earth. Home of us all.
It is your world too, believe it or not.
Pattern without rhyme: A not-so-free verse
I can feel myself
Slowly slipping away from me
Forgetting the things that I used to love
The reasons to live
The reasons to die
So I'm stuck mere existence
Just floating around like—not a ghost—
Nothing I can think of that is neither here nor there
I do the same things over and over
Day after day
Watching the clock
Knowing the feeling of two hours
Exactly how long a minute actually is
Because I watch the time so much now
Do you know the feeling? Of time passing? I feel it
It breathes down my neck
With no boom
It's like I feel my soul flickering
Like a candle in the wind
My will fading
Like paint on aged wall
Blotched ink on faded paper
I don't wake up with excitement
I don't look forward to the day any longer
I teach the kids, exercise, drink a lot of water
I do only things that are good for me now
Do you know the feeling? When the thrill of doing something you shouldn't do leaves you? I know it
It's what makes life worth living you know
Doing things you shouldn't do
Enjoying the thrill of defying something, someone, yourself, society
No matter how little you do defy
And when that's gone, what is left?
I can feel the hollowness in my being
A silence where my curiosity used to be
I do things
But I put them off for much longer
There's a pattern
But there's no rhyme
I'm starting to feel like the poems I write
Do you know the feeling?
Mind Over Murder
June examined the bloodstain on the wall.
“Well,” She said, looking up at the four faces peering up at her. "It's definitely not a suicide." She caught one or two eye rolls as she stood up from her crouching position, and more than a few nasty thoughts bubbled in their heads. It was fair, she really didn't have any place being here, as they often pointed out. Sometimes out loud, sometimes not. June cocked an eyebrow at the officers' faces. Two of the four looked annoyed at a teenager doing their job, one was looking at her curiously, as if working out a puzzle, and the last just looked bored.
She couldn't blame him.
It wasn't a particularly intriguing case. However, it did in fact seem to be a suicide at first glance. A man, sitting at a table flopped forward, wrists cut and facing up. But June could tell that it had been a murder. One who thinks he is clever. Whoever it was is long gone. there were no thoughts floating around.
"Oh don't give me those 'typical of her' eyes Jameson. Look at the blood spats. The bruises. The wrists were cut while he was restrained, and when he was dead and most of the bleeding calmed, he was dragged to the chair and positioned. How else do you explain the pooling blood on the floor and the lack on the table." As she spoke, June pointed to the spurts of blood on the ceiling and walls, along with small bruises alone the wrists and torso.
"Yes, I know you've decided it was a simple suicide. But you were wrong.”
"What, are you going to bring someone in too?" One of the officers scoffed. June shrugged.
"Perhaps. I'm rather busy at the moment."
She nodded at the men and walked out of the door. She didn’t need to be formal about it; It’s not as if she was working for them. Sure, sometimes she got a bit of pocket money for her interference, but it wasn’t a real job. She wasn't even supposed to be there. She stopped on the third step, hearing a rapid-fire of half-formed insults from the officers, griping at each other about 'the girl'. A few of the nastier ones never made it to their mouths, but they didn't know she knew that. She debated for a moment whether or not she should turn and face them arguing behind her, or simply be on her merry way.
She chose the latter.
June grabbed the car keys from her purse and unlocked her almost-new car. As she hopped in and closed the door she heard someone calling for her. She paused a moment. As she looked out the window, there was no one there. She hesitated before looking back out the windshield and froze. It was her mother. Thin. Pale. Ghastly.
June cringed at her full name. Her mother’s eyes widened before the figure screeched a ghostly wail. June shouted, screwing her eyes shut and covering her ears, preparing for a barrage of screams, but it never came. She looked up, and there was nothing but an awfully confused looking pedestrian she often crossed paths with, shooing his small child away from the ‘deranged beast of a girl.’ Those were the exact words the woman had been thinking. June breathed deeply, pulling her long curly dark hair around her face. No matter how many times the visions came, they were never any less terrifying. After collecting herself, she began her drive to the flat she had rented. Why was it even called a flat? Europe was odd. Of course, she had probably made it considerably more so.
Memories I don't want to remember
But they haunt me, over and over
I said 'goodbye', but you stay
I said 'i don't care', but I do
Why can't I forget?
I told myself I need to meet the deadline
I let it all stay and wait
Time rushed by and now I stand here
Only a few ticking seconds
Anxiety clawing its way around in my heart
I don't remember that traumatic scene
But I live the scar, I carry it
I don't remember the day, but the nightmares
I said I'd meet you, I never did
It's too late now, but I forgot
It's not that it wasn't important
It's just that I forgot, got busy
My attention was distracted, believe me
I regret that all I do is forget
Especially that which I don't want to
All the ugly stays and haunts me
All the pain, the screams, the scars
The darkness, loneliness, uncertainty
I remember that which broke me
I want to forget and start over
No, I don't...
I just want to learn and move on
Wipe it out and use the pillars
To build a new home
Where joy and love reigns
I want to remember the beauty
I want to extinguish the pain
I want to see the good
I want to wipe out the evil
Sometimes, I want to forget
I sit here waiting.
The birds rise and tweet and the wind rustles the leaves on the trees.
I stare out my window and see mothers, children, dogs, postmen and men in uniform going to work
A fly lands on my leg, it’s arms twitch as it washes its face.
The fly has a purpose, he longs for food. He waits, he looks, he searches for that morsel of food.
I‘ve been waiting so long I’ve fogotten what I’m waiting for.
I’m going stale like a mouldy piece of bread. Not a loaf, I’m not as important as a loaf.
I’m a flimsy piece of bread that’s breaking apart.
I watch the sun cast it’s shadow across my room.
Day turns to night and
I still wait.
My mind longs for interaction,
pleads with me to go outside.
My body aches pleads for me to move but I have fused with my sofa we are one.
I refuse to move, I refuse to stop looking out the window.
He will come,
I will wait.
A Non-Hypnotic Suggestion
"Hypnorc! So glad you could make it to my home away from home! Join us for a game!"
The orc approached the sihouette that was getting ready to spike a volleyball. The volleyball looked very CGI like, and the other people in the gym resembled video game avatars. A cityscape was visible from the window, but that also had a fake CGI look to it.
"Leftover, what kind of simulation have you created with Tam's chip this time?"
"Oh, something reminiscent of the new Nintendo Switch Sports game. You know, that new version of the old Wii Sports games."
"Yes, I am aware." Hypnorc said with slight annoyance. "So this is how you're spending your time nowadays? You would rather pretend to be in a weird video game instead of continue our goals of eliminating Hugh and his network?"
"Of course not Hypnorc, what you aren't understanding is the importance of downtime between schemes. In fact, I was going to run a new one by you. Remember the Pen To The Paper Challenges on Prose?"
"Absolutely not happening!" Hypnorc yelled. "I've already tried to cheat you into victory twice, and I refuse to do it a third time!"
"Hey, I wasn't going to suggest anything of the sort!" Leftover replied defensively. "I was just saying you need to lighten up, and might want to consider entering the contest for real!"
"I don't even have a legit Prose account. Besides, I came here to run something by you that has nothing to do with writing."
"Ok then, tell me what's on your mind."
"You seem to be in a rut lately boss. The scheme to get Gull on our side failed, and we've also lost John Harshal and Doctor Sic. Since Mirk's death and Tam's recruitment, you have been a shell of your old self."
"I'm already a shell of my old self!" Leftover yelled bitterly. "In case you didn't notice, I lost the features that made me me, and I consist of a silhouette! I can't even be myself in the kingdom that I rule without tricking everyone into thinking I am normal! I'm better off wallowing in these fake simulations that Tam's device is allowing me to create!"
"I get it boss, but hiding from your woes won't make anything better. You need to do something to become stronger and up your real game, not this fake simulation of an already fake volleyball game. Luckily for you, I know of someone in the North Pole that can make you more powerful. I heard of him from my days of trying to conquer that territory."
"Let me guess, Santa?" Leftover asked sarcastically.
"Of course not!" Hypnorc growled. "You can hear me out, or you can continue to waste away in this fake world, which Tam probably set up to make disposing of you easier to do. He did vow to destroy us once Hugh and his network are finished."
"Very well, I'll hear you out Hypnorc." Leftover replied apologetically, a slight smile forming on his face. "Please tell me where I can find this benefactor that can increase my skills. I will give the simulations a break, and return to what is truly important. Getting one step closer to defeating Hugh, and leading what will become the ultimate hero network...."
maybe it’s too late
to buy a card
like treating me
it‘s too much effort
forgive and forget
but Hallmark doesn’t make
greeting cards like that