Monthly Archives: September 2015

Kings of the Fall, Part Two

Walk the king’s road the king’s way: head held high in the dead of night

Bounced out of the club, bloodied and looking for the next fight,

Mouth running a mile a minute, blisters on your feet,

And seven miles to go before you’ll ever know her sheets


Walk with a swagger that might just be drunk staggering

Even at three wondering what the night will bring

Got that grin on your face, ready for whatever comes next

Knowing damn well that women and money are no safe bet


Got to beat something so you’ll beat the morning sun

Traded the car and the comfort for a little more fun

Out of cash but buying the lie that you can have it all

Doesn’t matter; it’s the road that crowns the kings of the fall

Haiku to the Boy That I Was

Some leaves never fall

(Messages every morning,

Talking past midnight)

Advice to a Forgotten Criminal

You sad little wretch, you did it all wrong,

Burning the wrong buildings, killing the wrong

People, throwing away your life for the wrong

Causes. (Temples, theatres, churches, schools. Fool!)


Infamy is pathetic sibling

To fame. We don’t glorify villains. No,

We curse them, spit upon them, and in time

We forget that they ever existed.


Don’t you see your name could have been Hero?

You could have slaked your blood lust, given in

To your base urges, left a legacy

Of ash and bone across the entire world


Had you picked the right victims, had only

Preyed upon monsters more monstrous than you.

No Updates, 9/14 – 9/21

Hey, remember when I finished that novel? Well, I need to edit that sumbitch, and the only time I really have is in the night after I get off of work. Which is when I usually write. Hence, there will be no updates for the next week. Maybe longer, but hopefully not. Moral of the story, I’m not dead! Don’t worry about not hearing from me.

Actually, if I don’t update by 9/23, I might be dead. Maybe worry about me then.

Who Says It Can’t Buy You Happiness?

How’d I get rich?

I found something. A book. And in it was a spell to alter reality. Use a big enough sacrifice, get whatever you want. So long as the sacrifice has “value.”

But the caster doesn’t have to be one that values it.

So, please. By all means. Keep wishing you were me.

Tell Me the One About the Stars

Lying on their back in a field looking up at the night sky. “Cancers and Capricorns are natural pairings,” he says. “They bring out the best in each other, logic and emotion together. Hey, are you cold?”

“That’s Capricornus,” she says pointing. “And that’s Cancer. See how far apart they are?”

She is not cold.

Six Six Word Stories


Prehistoric idol and it’s laser cut.



I’m knocking on second-story windows.



This time, babe, just stay dead.



10,000 years later, the radiation remained.



I do,” but with some caveats.



Lips sewn together, teeth clicking Morse.

Sendings II


Even repeated, words brought no strength.



A backhanded compliment. a plain insult.



The spider belonged. The human didn’t.



Anatomy, biology, psychology: methods of disassembly.



Even repeated, the song brought strength.



Beautiful girl, idle ugly male thoughts.



She couldn’t let go. He wouldn’t.



The drunkard’s lament, a worthless promise.



She existed in nightmares. But whose?



Surprise message. Gentle words. Unbidden tears.



Saying something over and over again is a mantra. You’re trying to convince yourself that it’s true, but it’s not.”

She started crying.



You know, you’re so perfect when you’re yourself instead of struggling to be something you’re not.”

And you’re basically an asshole twenty-four seven.”



He watched the spider crawl across the ceiling, thinking it had as much right to exist as him. Which is to say, none at all.



Inhuman lessons. The first, people are nothing more than biological machines. The second, like any machine, they come apart when you pull hard enough.



How many times now? Hundreds? Still the crowd screamed, “Encore, encore!”

But they still screamed, for her songs, for her. And so Sisyphus smiled.



Verb – perceive or experience the flavor of. Noun – a person’s liking for particular flavors.”

He wondered what her tastes were.



They made ghosts of each other, fading in and out of each other’s lives like spirits that couldn’t decide if they’d been exorcised or not.



He woke up face down in a puddle of vomit, body shaking like a spastic’s. Amidst a chorus of clinking glass he whispered, “Never again.”



She could feel it perched on her chest, suffocating her, claws digging into her skin. “Please,” it said, voice trembling. “You have to wake up.”



All the years after she’d stopped being his girl, she could still say a thing so beautiful, so perfect that it moved him to tears.

Scene from a Diner at the End of the World

The first paragraph of today’s piece is a writing prompt given to me by my buddy Rob. Thanks, Rob!

Our restaurant is utterly empty, sterile from the counter to the back wall. It is lunchtime, but nobody has come in, and my apprehension gestates in my belly like meat more questionable than the stuff we serve.

“You know, old man Wing’s lucky I’m such a responsible employee,” Jack mutters.

I say nothing. Jack has already given this speech at least ten times since Sally and Bryan hadn’t shown up to replace us, and since then irritation had given way to confusion had given way to the beginnings of fear.

“What if, like, the world ended?” I ask.


“Like a zombie apocalypse. Or nuclear war. Or maybe it was the Rapture.”

“That’s stupid,” Jack said with a snort.

“Yeah. It is. But I haven’t even seen someone walk by the window. The streets are empty.”

“You’re stupid. Don’t be stupid.”

“You’re a dick.”

“And you’re a pussy.”

“Alright, tough guy. Why don’t you go out and find somebody? I’m sure Wing would love you being proactive about bringing in customers.”

Jack’s eyes dart towards the door. He licks his lips, a snake tasting the air. “Yeah, alright. See you in a minute, pussy.”


He leaves. I start counting.

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