Thursday, October 15, 2015

Late for Dinner

Five miles in on a dusty dirt road, a young man walked alone.   It seemed a good thing to help the chap, so we pulled of and offered a phone,

Or ride, or food whatever the case we’d get him out of this dark night.   His smile had a catch, a pasted on look, his eyes never blinking or shuttered

“I’m seeking my friends out here in the dark” his voice was as smooth as a feline.   “will you give me a ride, up the road to my truck.  The engine last I heard did sputter”

We obliged, tis the way you treat strangers or kin who come needing your help in the country.   Man’s got a duty to help, another in need, in the dark wide expanse of Elberta.

Up the Slant road we drove, then I noticed the cold metal of a Mossberg pump action.   My foot pushed on the gas, the tires spun out real fast,  trying to gain enough traction.

“So what brings you here, out in the deep dark this night, your friends and you, what was your doing”.  My heart beat did race, but was beaten, and lapped, by the sprinting thoughts of my spooked mind contraption.

His lips barely moved, his words slithered out, “we’re hunting for sport and for game.  If we find ourselves enough we’ll be fed here for days.  Won’t need help from another faction”

We came round the bend, a red pickup sat there, I said “ I reckon this is the last I’ll be seein’ ya.”

His famished eyes looked my portly body up, and down, then up again.  His finger left it’s rest on the trigger

“You’re a lucky man” he said.  I was still full of dread, “my people, we don’t really like gristle."

Wednesday, October 7, 2015


There is a sponge inside of me, nestled between the lungs next to the cockles of my heart. The sponge is anxiety  defeat  self hate anger.

The sponge starts small, but it grows.  It encroaches  on my lungs giving me shortness of breath. I feel like I will suffocate.  It presses on the spinal cord making my body tremble and quake.   It slowly chokes my brain of blood bringing wild hallucinations of dread and horror as I lose body control.

As it grows I try to ignore the pain. To focus on something else.  Food.  Pleasure.  Or I lie in bed incapacitated, as it grows to fill every crevice of my unresponsive body.

In the end I can't compress it back down to a manageable size.  Sometimes it shrinks on its own.   Sometimes a friend hugs me.  He hugs me so long and so tight the sponge has no where else to go.  He hugs me and my blood flows again. My chest breaths again.  And my limbs respond to my requests again.

Please give the hug.   I feel so alone and the sponge is growing.