Invisible Attack 

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.


Death is a Human Construct

Death is a human construct. Animals don’t fear or crave it. They just kill and they just die. Of course they mourn, but they don’t lament their own death. Dream of it. Fear it.

We created death. We gave it to the devil and said, death is evil, we want to live forever. This is the curse of self awareness.

My dog always lives in the moment.

I always live in one of three, past, present, future.

She is happy, or sad or sleeping. She is not fearing her death. Fearing the future. She is not in pain. She has cancer.

When I got the news I was not upset. I love her but I said “ok.” Because death is not the devil, death is a human construct.

So is my heart cold because I am not sad? Because I am not afraid of a future without her? No, my heart is full. Tell me my dog will die in the future and I will say, “well I already knew that.” But here she is and here I am, and that has still not changed. She is happy napping and running in her sleep, and I feel the gentle breeze.

Where does dying start and living end? The reality is, we are all dying and living at the same time. They exist not one at a time, but simultaneously.

Tell me I am dying and I will say “yes, and living, and when I am dead I will be dead.” And she is dying, and so are you, and she is living, and so are you. We are all living and dying until we are dead, and then there is no more dying to be done.

6 word stories (various authors)

“I feel profoundly sad and melancholic”

“I don’t have all the answers”

“Yes. Of course I have ghosts”

“Momentos from another era, left behind.”

“I can’t focus. There’s so much.”

“what did i get myself into”

“I wish I was never born”

“Long journeys take cause homesickness. Treatment.”

“i didn’t ask to be born”

“Some day the sun will die.”

“three words: evolution is a lie”

“This is my six word sentence”

“Rip my cuticles, blood at last”

“I think this is based off a challenge that was posed to Hemingway. He wrote: Baby shoes for sale. Never used.”

“Having hard time. Gonna try later”

“Garage closed. Engine on. Just breathe.”

“Oppressive heat sedates… gradient plum salivates.”

“I love costco, monster on sale”

“ah! oh, huh? um… meh. om”

“Time for my role, professional person”

“melt into the couch, Dogs pant”

“return from vacation, dog has cancer”

“my sister pregnant, now its gone”

“Grandpa dying, son reads story aloud.”

“No real people, only telegram cares.”

“Suffer by day, sweet Seroquel sleep”

“I lied to my psychiatrist… Again”

“Smear fingers in graphite, not blood”

“My mom is great, but insane”
“I wish my coworker would leave.

Get the fuck outta here bitch.

Your shift is over, so leave.

Stop finding ways to stalk Mark

You’re both taken, just go away.

Ba boom, i’ll see you later”
(six sentences at six words a piece)


“6 word stories” – by various authors

The Threshold 

Where do we break? Between composure and infantile wailing? Euphoria and irritability? Comfort and pain? The pain that pushes you to the point where suicide makes sense. The threshold is lower in us. They try to raise it with pills and therapy and sunshine, so it can’t easily be breached, but it dangles over me, just out of my reach.

I jump for it over and over, wishing I had longer arms or legs. Sometimes I’m weighted down and can barely get off the ground. And if I’m lucky it soars out of sight and I am happy to not have it rest so close to my head.

That line, that threshold, the difference in us is that we see it. Discuss the risk and benefit, what society won’t admit. This makes us real. We do not pretend it is out of reach, that breakdown, that violence, that final breath. We know it is closer to us, our eyes are open.

Admitting it’s existence pushes the breaking point a bit further away. But it is still near. There is comfort where there is pain. It’s an angel and devil, not so far away. That lower threshold, some of us reach it anyway.