they’d made it out of the concrete jungle the surroundings now pleasant and uplifting no police chases at 3 am or ambulance runs shortly thereafter birds whistling greeted them now fresh, sweet-smelling air wafted through the windows chores made more pleasant by a pleasing atmosphere life was good!
the day started out as any other a hot, satisfying breakfast lunches being made cheeks and lips kissed goodbye with a smile she looked forward to her day the lady of the house showered, primped, and dressed she headed for the grocery store tonight would be a special occasion a celebration of his promotion the fruits of his efforts to get ahead
she didn’t hear the car approach as she closed the front door and began to lock the deadbolt her hand slipped from the keys when the first bullet hit the second one ripped through the back of her head and pierced the wooden frame her body crumpled to the ground blood oozing rhythmically from her fatal wounds a last thought crossed her mind before fading into darkness “the grass wasn’t greener on the other side”
their cries are haunting me i wish i could filter out or at least dim the torment of the wailing of those not yet pronounced dead hopefully soon shrieks reduced to whimpers then silence on hallow’s eve
The mission was to murder all the men on the beaches of Florida in broad daylight. What a time to be alive! We stuck tight together as we got them one by one, by boat and on foot, coming at them from both sides. We were speedy and efficient.
My weapon of choice, a machete; others preferred their machine guns. They thought I left too much space for error or getting killed. Perhaps, but I liked murder up close. Death is where I found my happy place.
I smiled, hearing the men gasping for air, drawing in deep, raspy breaths.
the monumental woes sudden jolts to the psyche a shock of endless wounding ripples splintering into a cascade of emotions gigantic internal rifts open in us
flayed open in a jagged void
our mind, body and soul doing the symbiotic dance of intense unease putrid words heat up inside needing purged they force themselves up and out unintelligibly hot screamed tears flow down anguished cheeks
our reality forever changed
in time we hush our voice to gutteral moans the liquid from our eyes slows to a trickle the suffering seals us up within ourselves and the sadness clings to every fiber in our being arthritic pain felt everywhere there are no bones
I shall miss the dandelion as surely as the sun and I will miss the end of rain when the storm is run I shall miss the lies of days which promise comforts new and the guile of midnight’s ways of dreams that don’t come true I shall miss the aches of age that torment me out of bed though more than all in life’s great plan I’ll miss wishing I was dead.