lacking

The lack of good sleep wears on
And my mind is drawn
And so I am waiting on
Hallucinations.

When will I lose all control
And pay the owed toll
And give up body and soul
For this crazy role?

Nights and days blur together
And untogether
And I have lost the tether
Against the weather.

Perhaps I won’t realize
And I’ll miss the spies
And I’ll be blind to the skies
That actualize?

Time will tell the truth of it
And see when I split
And how I rage and submit
While I throw my fit.

The lack of good sleep wears on
And my mind is gone
And my thoughts are now full on
Abominations.

all together in the end

The fog, heavy upon the land, stifled movement and choked what little light there was.  Even the moon, full and majestic, did little to break the grasp of the dense blanket of dew.  While the metal walls shielded me from the cold and damp, my bones still ached from them.  Everything but time was dulled and slow.  My joints throbbed in time to the seams of the road.

Thump-thump.  Thump-thump.  Thump-thump.

I scanned the darkness in search of lurking dangers.  The view from my cage on wheels was distorted through the layers of fog.  Other cars could have been inches away and they might have gone unnoticed.  Pedestrians and bikers would have been invisible completely.  I scanned the darkness and was plagued by doubt.  Was I in control or was that just an illusion of hope?  My heart beat furiously in my chest.

Thump-thump.  Thump-thump.  Thump-thump.

The sounds of the drive were all wrong.  The water heavy air absorbed all, robbing me of the clarity in all senses I might have had otherwise.  Not quite all, though, as the most sinister of pitches slipped through unblemished to plague my worries.  I adjusted the stereo to cover my fears and music blared through the speakers around me.  I joined my voice in song as the drumline rattled my cage.

Thump-thump.  Thump-thump.  Thump-thump.

They say that things are often darkest before the light, and in those moments well before sunrise with the night dimmed further by the thick fog, I dreamt of bursting free of my isolation as the sun peeked over the horizon.  I dreamt of driving into the fire while the dew burned away in splashes of golden red.  I dreamt of stepping clear of my cage to revel in the glory of another new day.  The fears gnawing on my thoughts fell away and the rhythm of my heart slowed to match the beat of the music.

Thump-thump.  Thump-thump.  Thump-thump.

My driving dreams did not come to fruition, of course, as the world often failed the expectations of my imagination, but the fog did dispel, relinquishing its grasp on my senses.  The full moon, directly overhead, exploded light onto the fields around me.  My aching bones ceased their complaints.  The sounds of the morning returned.  My sight returned as well.  It was early still and the day had plenty of time to bloom glorious.  The music, my heart, and the road came together in anticipation.

Thump-thump.  Thump-thump.  Thump-thump.

Updates (Fiction)

I’m writing this from my bathtub.

I hate when Android tells me that I need to upgrade my apps. They usually work fine so I wait until the last-minute.

Today I decided to update. The phone warned me that I’d be unable to make or receive calls for an unspecified time. No biggie. I survived three days last year without a phone. Who cares about a few moments?

As I selected “Make Updates”, I saw a menacing guy outside my place. We made eye contact and I thought, “Oh shit. Not now.”

I locked the external doors and made my way to the bathroom. Our community procedures say this is the safest place in the event of a tornado. I figured the same would apply to a psychopath.

My phone kept updating. Why was application #22 taking so long? He breached my external door. I should have listened to my Aunt and selected a higher level.

As application #57 of 60 updated, I heard the bathroom doorknob break and a voice say, “I’m here for you, bitch.”

knots

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Long ropes, short ropes, fat ropes, thin ropes
Dangling, looping, holding, waiting
Each with a purpose, a service
And each tied with a knot
Bowlines, cleat hitches, anchor bends, clove hitches, sheepshanks

Sometimes for fun, sometimes while under the gun
I’ve needed them, learned them, used them
Taut twisting tensile tangles
But not all that fraught
Bowlines, cleat hitches, anchor bends, clove hitches, sheepshanks

Funny names, silly names, sea-faring names
Belying, hiding, masking, tricking
Their worth beyond a berth
In the desert I was taught
Bowlines, cleat hitches, anchor bends, clove hitches, sheepshanks

odds are

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The gods lit the heavens ablaze and dragged their bloody fallen across the sky in retreat.  They had fought.  They had tried.  They had hoped to make a difference, but in the end they had to admit defeat and relinquish the world to the mortals.

They would hide away, mostly forgotten, until the fools who rose to power below ended up sacrificing all of humanity in their pursuits of greed and cowardice.  The gods, those who had survived, had only to wait and eventually the earth would be theirs to shape again.  They would regret those of their own they had sacrificed and those of the mortals who they had tried to save.

Fueled by anger and grief they would forge a better world.  It wasn’t the first time they’d had to start over, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.  Each time the new was better than the old had been, so there was hope one time they would get it right.  They had as much time as they needed, so the odds were in their favor.

………………..

Anyone up for a flash fiction challenge?  Steal this picture and write something of your own to go with it.  No word limits.  No genre demands.  Go where the inspiration takes you.