Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Ways To Kill 2

Doors. Choices. Conspiracy theories. I'm still counting.

It doesn't matter how many I can find, how many I can count. It only matters that the numbers keep rising, and I need to know why. There is something out there, something that is being counted and someone that is counting. I must find it and them. I must know why.

Fourteen thousand and counting. It is still growing. Time is falling away from us, and yet I cannot find it.

Tomorrow is coming and yesterday is slipping through my fingers. There was never enough time to begin with and now there is even less.

The longer it takes me to find it, the harder it will be to stop. And if I cannot stop it, it will be the end of us all.

What are you counting?

Tuesday, May 15, 2007


find the words on my tongue and the rhythm in my head,
forget all the stupid things i should have left unsaid.
remember all the times I said I loved you the most,
and the days one of us played guest and the other played host.

find the words in my footsteps and the rhythm in my soul,
mull over all those recipes we mixed to help us feel whole,
when we frowned at the sunlight and bright cloudless days,
and cheered when the clouds came to block those burning rays.

find the words in the air and the rhythm in the ground,
watch you spinning, keep on spinning, watch you twirl around.
find the music in your hope, find the beat in your heart,
find our world, show the world they can't tear you apart.

find your hands on my shoulders and your breath in my hair,
spin around, miss the ground, try to catch you standing there.
find your wings, find your light, let you soar into the sky,
feel your joy and your dreams, know you finally got to fly.

Friday, May 4, 2007


wrap my bed in silk,
that for now is soft.
climb within, seal it up,
so wishes may set me aloft.

Wednesday, May 2, 2007

The Auctioneer

Adam was an auctioneer. He sold stuff on the internet. Ebay, Amazon, Abebooks, he had accounts at all of them. He bought useless stuff from people. Books, broken down cars, furniture, everything. If it was in poor condition, he bought it. He held onto it for a few days, weeks months years, just keeping the merchandise by his side, and by the time he sold it, it was in mint condition.

To people who didn't know him, he was a quirky, eccentric buyer who always managed to bank in on worthless deals. To friends, he was an inspiring example of the best luck, dealt a good hand by the fates. To his innermost circle, he was know by two titles: The Auctioneer and The Appreciator.

Adam had a special gift. Some might be so forward, if they knew of it, to call it a mutation, a gift, a superpower. Items appreciated around him. Cars, houses, books, everything in his reach grew in value instead of decreasing like normal things did. A broken-down jalopy laid in his garage for five years. The only part of it he had paid for was towing it from the junkyard. When he sold it, it looked and worked almost brand new. When these items left his presence, they did not suddenly revert back to their old value, but merely began depreciating at their normal rate once more.