Black Holes

Mowing through food like its nothing
Sucking in everything that comes into its path
Its gaping maw swallows you whole
And there’s no escape
Toxic, cancerous, destructive
A repellant force
You can’t fight against
You can’t stop it
You stand there helpless
As it slowly drains your energy
Kills you from the inside out
Sucks your life force
And then
In the end
It swallows your rotting carcass whole


Stranger Than Fiction (A short short story)

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and struggled to fit through the doorway. He walked in, hesitating with each step, and took his hat off. With a nod of his head, he took his trench coat off as well and handed it to me. I smiled at him, suppressing my discomfort. I hadn’t had to do business with detectives before, so this was all new to me. I didn’t know what to say or how to act. I felt his eyes upon me, knowing he noticed my every quirk and feeling inadequate because of it. He lit up a cigarette, asking me if I minded. I shook my head, when I really wanted to laugh. Either I was dreaming this whole thing up or I’d been dropped into a black and white Humphrey Bogart movie from the forties. His dark eyes glanced my way with suspicion, as if he had read my thoughts. I tried not to stare at him. His handsome yet intimidating presence was hard to ignore.

He cleared his throat and started asking me questions. No small talk, no hello and how are you, he went right down to business. No fuss, no muss, just the facts, ma’am, as Dickens would say. I don’t know why, but I found that disappointing. I liked chit chat. I wanted to get to know people I met on a daily basis, even jaded detectives that looked like an unholy hybrid of Phillip Marlowe and James Bond.

That’s not to say I wanted him to flatter me, but a little friendliness could have gone a long way. I had just lost my sister to a murder, after all. I gave him what he wanted: the facts. He wrote it all down in his little notebook, his eyes glued to the pages the whole time. He didn’t look up, didn’t give me any acknowledgement at all. I felt a rush of embarrassment. His coldness unnerved me, and I wanted him to leave. I froze up just by standing near him.

The funny thing was, even though he refused to look at me and said nothing as I yammered on about what had happened to my sister, I felt like he was aware of everything I did and everything I felt, like he was staring up at me from beneath his hooded eyelids. He could see me, without looking. This made no sense at all, I knew that, but it was how I felt at the time. I never would have imagined, that day, what came next. I never would have guessed that cold, rigid man was my future husband, and the love of my life. Had it been a novel, I would have cackled at how unrealistic it was. It’s true, you know, what they say. Truth really is stranger than fiction.

The Movies

Take me to the movies
Where we’ll have loads of fun
Forget about our daily lives
And get swept up into stories
Worlds we’ll never know
People we’d like to meet
On the screen
Our other selves sit back and watch
While our alternate lives play out before us
And when it is over
When the credits roll
And we stand up from our seats
We have smiles on our faces

Cherished Memories

His voice reminds me of a moonlit garden in summer
Flowers and fragrances contained within the gentle breeze
Under the stars we sway in each others arms
The musical notes hover over us, frozen in place,
Like photographs of a lost time
And when I hear the sounds of trumpets
I think back on those endless days and nights
And tears come unbidden to my eyes

Follow the Herd

note: this is what most kids grow up believing, this is how they are brainwashed, it’s not too late to make a change, it’s not too late for them to learn to be themselves, to ignore the messages they receive, to learn to love individuality and difference. We can make a change, but first we have to accept our own limitations, and recognize that what’s wrong with our youth reflects what is wrong with our own selves and society at large. 

Follow the herd

High school is a plastic doll factory. It teaches you to one thing and one thing only: be like everybody else. These jeans are the latest hot fad, those shoes are not acceptable, hair shouldn’t be too long nor too short, and so on. The easiest way to avoid being bullied is to join the crowd, sacrifice your soul, and willingly turn into a sheep. Follow the leader, be part of the herd, don’t think too much, just go with the flow.You have to remember what’s important: keeping up with your friends. You won’t be judged on your mind or personality, you will be judged on your clothes and appearance. Accept it, and learn to relish it, after all, there is no I in team.

All this does not end with high school, though. High school is just the beginning. It’s the training camp for the real world. The lessons you learn now will serve you for the rest of your life. If you don’t learn them, you’re screwed. If you don’t fit in now, you probably never will. You’re probably one of those weirdo misfit people who think up is down and black is white. Good luck with that. You’ll be a loser the rest of your life, because you don’t know how to follow orders. Not the teacher’s orders mind you, but the social order.

The pecking order we all adhere to, because there are winners and losers, and we get to pick them amongst ourselves. The alpha dogs and head bitches in charge will not be questioned. You are allowed to be a beta, or a random follower, but you are not allowed to have a mind of your own. If you do, then you have two choices: be an outcast (get beat up or harassed on a regular basis) or be invisible (be ignored by everyone and have no friends).

Welcome to paradise, these are the rules, don’t like them, don’t let the door hit you on the way out. We’re in a club, an exclusive one, only certain people get in, the rest watch from the outside forever. That’s how things work. It’s best to accept and follow along. Conform. Be like everybody else and turn your brain off. It builds character, you know, having friends and fitting in. You’ll always land on your feet in life if you fit in, if you know how to schmooze, if you look the right way and say the right things. Never mind those other people: the rebels, the introverts, the prudes, the homosexuals and asexuals,  the punks and the geeks, the losers and the nerds, the artists and the dreamers, the techies and the bookworms, the scene kids and the goths, the addicts and jailbirds, and so on. They’re bad for society. They’ll fail, they already have.


Impossible standards you can’t reach
Ambition greater than talent
Envy is the fuel of the artist
And the sign of the downward spiral
What do you do when it’s never enough
When fear of failure blends in with fear of success
And binds you into struggling inertia
To the point you’re so consumed
With your own paranoia
You’re stuck without motion
And nothing is finished
Nothing is achieved