Fallen fledgling,

I grin,
I can help it,
Because it’s mine now.

Steel toed boot
I crush it.






“Cain, you are a gift to this Earth” I say to myself.


The trees shed beauty,
Exposing brown skeletons.

I walk and crush their,
Fallen alms.

A rustle,
Sunbeams flicker.

Sympathetic nervous system,
My pupils are dimes.

I see,
I crawl,
I watch,
The brown beauty.

She’s mine now.

Blurs my vision.

My rifle cold and hard.
I stroke it

Her doe black eyes see into mine.

I never waiver.



“The fuck?!” The bitch is in my head.

Cain, tilt the gun up.

My muscles betray me.

Cain, the barrel under your chin now.

Cain, your finger on the trigger now.

She speaks wordlessly.

Now come with me,
Hear me.
You walk among men,
Crushing skeletons

With perverted joy.
The Earth is not your toy.
You animal.
It is here you will fall.

My body now her puppet,
I move with her,
And lie in dirt.

I want to take her,
But she reads my soul.

I am all women
All animals
All Earth

And all of those without offensive mirth.

You are not in control,
You are a slave to your lust.

Sin came to your door,
You are no Bacus.
No Philemon.
You welcomed it in.

Like a fledgling you will now lie,
In Earth forever waiting to die.

A flicker of white,
She pranced away.

Immobilized in Earth’s hole,
no control.

My rifle forever pointed at my chin.
My finger forever on the trigger.

She would never be mine.
Nothing would ever be mine.



Please click the link to read this entry on I entered this poem in a prose contest so the more views the better!

I Wore White

I wore white.
Impressive interview. 
As usual. 

I make them laugh and laugh. 

My patient told me, “you are great at what you do.”
A patient.
Drugs and rope, his ticket in. 
Two hundred and fifty pounds lost to a shower rod.

The nurses laugh.
Can’t cope.

Weak and stupid, 
Can’t kill himself right.

Not his first time
In hospital restraints.

I didn’t say,

I ate my pills for breakfast and
hid my demon today.

I didn’t say, 

I’m glad my dad failed,
in the garage.

I didn’t say, 

He’s too smart to 
Kill himself right.

Code blue came to us,
Most experienced, 
I led the team. 

I didn’t say,
I once had a ticket. 

I wore white. 



At bottom of the rocky gorge a river beautiful moved with destructive force. I stood at the top, my gaze drawn like rocks sinking, my toes kissing the rim. The water was grey, not from filth, but from clay. I closed my eyes and the wind swayed my body like a sapling tree. I played a game in my head: “if the wind pushes me towards the river, I’ll jump.” The wind pushed West, parellel to the ravine. Today was not the day. 


Pointing fingers 

The diversion created by pointing fingers: dissect them not me!
And I still have the balls to wonder why no one knows my turmoil, why I feel so alone. I should turn that finger around and use it to rip myself open, so they can see my insides. 

I imagine they would be made of rape, depression, drugs, and a messed up childhood, but I would be surprised to find out I am made of guts and love. Maybe the pills would spill from my blood, and I’d try to conceal them as they slip through my fingers to the earth.

It’s like suicide but instead of hiding behind death, I’d have to face them alive. I couldn’t leave a note in blood, or bits of me on the wall, or let them cry at the person they thought I was. Would I cry when my insides reveal I am just like them?

Angel of Nothing

Through my torment I cried out for a God I did not believe in. Hallucinated radio noise and whispered murmurs were unquieted with auriclar compression. And my diagnosis of pure obsessive OCD rang true as unwanted thoughts of suicide silently rang in my head.

An angel appeared before my open and closed eyes and said “do you want me to show you heaven? The land of the dead?”

“Of course.” I said, through gritted teeth and a smile that couldn’t fool.

She took my hand and we disappeared into nothing.
“If you are good and pure in life, you will arrive. If you push away your thoughts and keep them inside.”

Through unmoving mouth the word yes came aloud. We arrived without a sound, there and not there, conjoined on a hallucinated cloud.

As I looked around me I could see, the vast machine, the majority. The secret after church adulteress. The babe that gained entry because he was dipped in a bowl of dirty water, by the pedophilic priest proclaimed holy with a dillusional wave of his magic fingers.

They were here as in life, moving about with unfooling smiles because they were supposed to be happy. 

They paid to be here with cold metal and paper dropped in a weekly bowl, and whispered confessions in a nailed wooden box to the man behind the red curtain, the barred window. They had done what they were told, what they were supposed to do. Suppressed pleasure and love, need and sin. They had kept it all in, for the hope of paradise in heaven.

“But what about life? The pleasures of skin?”

“You’re not right!” She proclaimed. “Your earthly skin, your borrowed suit, don’t tarnish it, otherwise they won’t let you in!”

But is this the place I want to be? Free of sin and ecstasy? Free of thought? Of time? Of taste? Free of human bodies? Souls in their place?

“It must be so.” She answered my unspoken words,

“You think too much, you must converge. Unthinking you must live, unthinking as dead, silence the sinful thoughts in your head.”

“But what is sin?” I say. “The words of dead men? Of history? Of a time of less human connectivity?

“Of words spoken to no one with folded hands before sleep? while we lay dreaming, becoming a sheep?

“And we drink the red sugar drink, and say it is blood, and pretend it is normal, all out of fake love?

“But what about love for me? For fantasy? For tasting blood of a lover at the point of pure ecstasy? 

“For the unpopular comedic release of words dubbed swear?  Of lies and actions while my mind despair?

“What of joy? Of exploration? Of freedom and drugs? Of truth and lies told without fear? The life I live on Earth, not here.”
She said, “If it is done, you will come to hell. With sinners like you as well.”

“To be with those like me? feeling and energy? Angel, your perception of Hell is flawed, I suffer on Earth, because I exist in truth, unlike the human, that holds himself aloof, who lives in fear of future regret, of pleasure repents.

“And if Hell is to be with others as me, then it is not Hell I see.

“You delusional devil!” I cried, “we live and live and live until we die, and after death, no more dying to be done.

“I think of suicide, almost every day, but after I kill myself, there will be nothing and that is how I will stay.”

And the angel faded and I felt the pendulum sway. From bright white lights to the awful grey.
The sounds of life came roaring in, that fan, that dog, and sounds of sin. 

And blinking my eyes, I awoke in a state of undress, next to a beautiful woman whom I was obsessed. 
I had fallen back to life, away from the spiritual strife. And I thought;
“The angel of nothing is a ghostly shell, because life exists in both heaven and hell.”

Poetry Prompt

Anyone want to participate in my poetry prompt?

The set up is 3 stanzas

Each stanza is:
2 syllables
4 syllables
2 syllables

the rhyme scheme for the poem is:

I’ve written two. If anyone wants to participate, I’d love to hear what you come up with!

Porcelain face

She crooks
Her lovely head
And looks.

Me, lips parted


Warmth spreads
Between her legs.
Damp threads.

She slides
Petite fingers

And one
Finger comes up


Elderly women whisper 

Elderly women whisper: “marry a man that loves you more than you love him.”

Fall in love, get married and have babies. This is the unspoken rule. This is how life is lived.

A husband, a wife, a house in the suburbs. Fulfilling Big Brother complete. This is what we display to the public, social normative behavior. Wouldn’t want to stand out.

In that house, hidden from the public view, depression, irritability, wild thoughts and obsessive behavior. Brilliant minds are partially revealed, but the invisible force of the fear of nonconformity drives us to shelter those ideas most objectionable.

But what about happiness? A secret love, a passion, something more. Don’t let them see it. It is not allowed.

Out of earshot rapid ideas are exchanged between lovers. The conversation is stimulating, exciting, brilliant. The chains of normalcy are broken, excitement reaches a climax, euphoria is found in forbidden love making.

A secret is kept, for now the lovers live in painful longing. The roles of the nuclear family continue. Big Brother smiles.The grandmothers are proud. Conformity complete.



True Story 

Just south of the college campus on Route 93, Kelsey stood on the side of the road. Massachusetts was beautiful during the fall, she thought. The smell of leaves just changing colors and the satisfying crunch underfoot should be soothing.

Cars and trucks whizzed by, but no one stopped. She felt the pull of their wind with each pass.

Cradling her bags in her arms she thought of the win from last night. Fiercly competitive, the thought brought a smirk to her face. This was the smirk everyone knew her by. Winning was how she lived. School, work, beauty even in charity. The thought of ever causing pain to anyone caused a pang in her chest.

“Wherever you go, go with all your heart” she said aloud, one of her favorite mantras. 

She started walking parallel to the side of the road. Watching the traffic. In the distance she saw a large tractor trailer. Perfect! This is just what she had been waiting for. As he got closer she waited, and then with perfect timing she stepped into his path.

Paul was hauling 80,000 pounds of rock salt that day. As he drove on Route 93 he had spotted several students. This was not unusual. Although the the road was busy and unsafe, students frequently walked the road and crossed to get to local stores. 

He had spotted her from a distance and thought nothing of it. Until she stepped into the road facing him. Panicking, Paul breaked and swerved to the side. She had locked eyes with him and he couldn’t look away. Her arms were both raised, feet firmly planted, she looked like she was making an “X.” The look in her face was not panic or fear or sadness, just pure determination. 

Her gaze only broke when her body made contact with the truck, she disappeared underneath the passanger door. 

When the truck stopped, Paul ran out. The sight was horrifying. There was blood everywhere, he couldn’t see her face and she didn’t seam to be breathing.

The next moments were a blur. An ambulance crew had somehow arrived. “How do I tube her? She has no face!” Shouted one of them. The other shouting “just look for the bubbling air and put it in there!”

She was whisked away. Just her scattered bags marking the place she had just stood. 

On arrival to the trauma unit she was unrecognizable. Her face pulverized mush. Amy stared at the bleeding flesh, and the single eye dangling horrifically down by its optic nerve. She would never forget that image.



(Kelsey died four days later. Her kidneys and liver were donated.)

(This is based on a true story, all names and places changed for privacy. )

Death with dignity 

The feeling of a cold gun 
in my mouth. 
Hope I don’t stop, 
don’t cock 
it the wrong way. 
Miss my brain, 
extend the eternal pain 

by shooting my face off instead. 
But once the it can be seen, once my nose is shot off and I’m blind without eyes and a jaw. that’s when they say, oh poor thing, she must be in such pain. 
And then I want to stop care, they say ok, you should, you should die with dignity so you do not suffer. and I laugh without a mouth and no crinkle to my eye because my death is anything but dignified.


Invisible Attacker Writing Challenge

Various Authors


In the shadows, he stalks his pray

little did the samurai know, this was his last day

this feud has been going on for for years and he traveled for a week.

finally the urge for revenge was at it’s peak

running at fool speed without making a sound

he locked on his target, leaped and spun round and round

in mid air he aimed his sword right in the middle like Thuringia

off with the samurai’s head, he just got fucked up by a ninja



Chatting online – you’re supposed to be kind.
I really thought we were friends…
But invisible attackers on the other end of the line
Make fun of my typing instead.


A ravenous void
It’s infinite nothingness



Ceramic tiles line the walls around me,
Tepid water fills my nostrils.
I choke,
The air escapes me.
They breathe it in,
Like they breathe my strength, as I lose it.
But the water fills my lungs.
I splutter,
Like I choke on the air that surrounds me.
“Make your choice carefully”
“I have”
Thrust back into the deep,
Like a tunnel engulfing me.
Like my soul is trying to escape my body.
Like a knife is slicing through me.
It would be a blessing.



Brian sat alone in his apartment. He didn’t mind his lack of social interaction, in fact he fooled himself into thinking he hated it – that was most nights. Tonight is different. He felt something he hasn’t felt in a long time, he felt lonely. He wanted to talk to someone, anyone, anyone besides his cat. As he sat he pondered the past few months, when he didn’t always avoid the real world. Hell, he enjoyed people. But not since his mom’s death has he left his apartment, let alone have the ability to go see his friends who he had bailed on enough they stopped texting. But today was different, today he wanted to be with someone.

 Just as he let this thought into his mind, almost as if it was meant to happen, his phone shook and glew, he hadn’t seen it act in such way in weeks. It felt foreign, his heart dropped as he looked, it was a number that he didn’t recognize. He sighed and let it go to voicemail. Shortly after the phone shook again; same number, same tune,but it felt more aggressive. He was surprised, doesnt this person know he hadnt answered calls in a long time? Before he knew it he was on the phone. “Hello?” He said wearily. A low murmur came from the other side, followed by a soft yet grizzled voice of a man ” knock knock Brian” the voice said with a giggle. “Who’s there?” Brian responded regretting following the voices direction “boo” said the voice. ” Boo who” Brian shakily answered, “don’t cry Brian I haven’t even started, see you soon.” The voice chortled. 

Brian shaking reached for his green bottle that was filled to the brim with Xanax. He delicately pulls out two bars and pops them in his mouth and washes it down with his flat and warm shit beer. He lays down wishing to forget his weird call, promising to not ever answer to phone again. He closed his eyes hoping to drift off to sleep. After tossing and turnin, it wouldn’t last. Shortly after he was woken by a sudden shooting pain and the warm trickle of blood pouring from his skull. As he woke, his eyes returned to focus, but he could only make out the grin on the figure standing above him. “Knock knock Brian,” the figure said with a gleeful smile. As Brian witnessed the bloody hammer that had finally come into focus come towards him. Brian felt something he hadnt felt since his beloved mother would comfort him as a child. Brian felt peace.



Closing my eyes, I fall
far from reality.
Slipping between parallel universes,
But you can still see my body.

Words come out of my mouth like
Charlie Brown’s teacher.
Silent instructions move
My plastic body.

The act of person reaches
An unobtainable threshold.
Severe concentration deficit,
Food burning on stove.

Only a matter of time.

Viscous water resistance,
My head disappears beneath the Hudson
Held by the invisible attacker

I say to me, stop!
But my body has become
The marionette of my dark soul.