Saturday, February 6, 2016

923. Heat

He stared at the blank document and stared and stared and stared.
His fingers pecked out words of discouragement - mainly criticisms of himself.
Sighing, he held the Backspace key until everything had been obliterated.
If you're so desperate to be a martyr, you can at least let someone else find you the flames.

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

922. Mustard

The mustard stain on my shirt is dry now.
It flakes under a fingernail, redrawing its filthy geography.
My eyes are drawn to it like I expect it to deal with itself.
But it doesn't and I am a mess.

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

921. First world problems

"More than most" is a phrase I'm chewing on.
I'm working it around like shoe leather steak trying to make it make sense.
I know it applies to me.
But, I don't want to try and believe it.

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

920. Carpetbagger

What does it mean when you hear a strange word twice in short order?
It's weird, right?
There, now you've said it a third time.
You're making me fucking paranoid, man.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015

919. Miracle miracle

Rachel sat on an airport toilet.
She swiped this way and that, eradicating any chance she'd cross paths with a person whose digital opinions she found distasteful.
"It's all shit," she thought.
But what an age of miracles.

918. The Clay Eaters

There's an old quarry near where I was born - red sandstone.
The stone formed over millennia as the red clay in the ground dried.
I think about that red clay sometimes; generations of people here with that clay in their blood.
I bet they shit the stuff.

Sunday, December 20, 2015

917. Lung capacity

They breathe deeply; drowning men and women savouring their last sweet fix of air.
The driver won't wait any longer.
Dejected, they stub out cigarettes still long with promise.
The last man, flicks away the smoldering edge and tucks half a smoke in his breast pocket.

Thursday, December 17, 2015

916. No one is greater than the municipal building code

The town had a fraudulent geography.
The buildings - all the same height, give or take - made navigation almost impossible.
He wandered, at last, to a church with an unfinished sign: Jesus' word.
"Which one(s)?" he wondered.

Monday, December 14, 2015

915. AC/DC

Mom, Dad, I'm leaving school to join a tribute band.
You'll say dentistry is a secure and enviable career, but I have to follow my heart.
I hope you understand.
You've been, Thunderstruck.

Friday, December 4, 2015

914. The Doctor

One day, quite out of the blue, the doctor came to believe he was a dog.
He thought as a dog, behaved as a dog.
After awhile, there was not so much of the doctor left anymore.
He was a good boy.