I hope you never feel safe
with me
There’s a ghost that stands between us
once the room is free
He’s not one for malice; he tinkers in tomfoolery
So don’t let your guard wear thin
And don’t find yourself safe, with me
I hope this ghost
I can trust
I can confide in this soul all the painted words I construct
My canvas is torn
and I’ve snapped my brush
don’t find yourself safe, with specter’s hush
Now I hope I can find repose
I’ve said words so vulnerable, my my I was exposed
You cracked the hard exoskeleton
Somehow it decomposed
And don’t find yourself sleeping alone
So if you ever see a shadow come alive
with a foolish jump and a cynical cry
Please know that it all must subside
Like everyone we’ve known
who has…
“This place blows” she said under a busy midnight overpass, feeding energy to two tired teens.
“I can’t wait until I flee from here, I’m never coming back past the day I turn eighteen”
His reply was met with a kiss and she held his hand tight to fight and ignite their retort’s hiss.
Their location elect and yet, the above noise excessive and detested. Their position desired albeit, a restlessness.
“Can we please leave this place, I am tired of this endless sea of cars”
And with her query the boy took her hand and led her far and far away from that endless sea of cars.
And the night grew late and their day now long and so grew their hate of the city that is home.
“I’m not tired if you’re not tired and I want to walk all the way to the window. Oh I want to go, I want to go and see what pictures are up for the month, no?”
Curfew dare and keep them at bay as the boy held her hand and led the way. All the while talk prolonged, of the vexed city that is home.
“I like this one, won’t you get it for me?” She pointed to the one of the City.
“Where was it taken, it looks so pretty” The image astounded and filled each with ease.
“I think this place is closer than it seems.”
They turned around to face the skyline, a nice sign that they were living in exciting times.
And they felt their city isn’t so bad.
The Somnambulist Homicide
By Alex Stanilla
I awoke to find an open drawer
And a missing knife
What an awful, dreaded dream I had
On a menacingly, macabre night
Decrepit shadows clung to walls
Depicting ugly sights
Torture serenaded the empty halls
And laughter wrought with pride
The villain’s tone was eager yet
And I knew I’d have to hide
Alas! I have yet to feel a threat
Likely, my mind’s state was awry
No! what was that courage I then possessed?
Empowered unto thy?
And better yet the happenstance
The murderer was now mine!
I searched and searched the emptiness
But the villain I could not find
An escape for now the coward went
Fleeing into the night
And there I was, alone again
Alone with the corpse hide
And there it was! It came to me
I looked the villain in the eye
The victim’s blood a mirror yet
In the reflection, it showed I
The very man that took the life
Of the woman that just died
Alas! His face was new to me
But I assure thee it was I
And there it was, it came to me
Simply a dream I recognized
I awoke at once!
In my own bed
Paralyzed with fright!
It was only a dream that I just had
Yet, something wasn’t right
Where was my wife, she’s not in bed
She was not in mine own sights
I awoke to find an open drawer
And a bloody knife.
So I got a tattoo back in February. I have always been interested in tattoos and as long as I can remember I have been interested in Star Wars so I got the death star tattooed on my chest, right above my heart.
Because tattoos are still considered taboo in many workplaces I was careful to make sure I got it in a location that could be easily covered whilst working. Mostly every shirt I own envelopes it rather discreetly and the existence of the tattoo has only been made aware to a few close friends and my kindest mother who paid for nearly half of it. She was not pleased with it’s outcome.
For Christmas my dear aunt got me a tank top shirt when she was visiting Hawaii. Being the pasty bastard that I am I have never owned a tank top, especially since for most of my life my mother was unbearably overprotective. She always has an SPF of at least 50 on deck whenever summer roles through town. With that said, I have never donned the tank.
Today was an exception. Mom’s been out of town for two weeks and the laundry duties have been up to me. I had been wearing every shirt to it’s maximum capacity and I could not find one that was suitable to wear during the summer, other than the tank. It was no big deal really, I was just wasting time around the house, not expecting to go out until my friend Clay called.
“Jim! Remember those rabbits I got last year, the two chicks?”
I assured him that I remembered his rabbits quite well and I almost included that I never knew nor gave a shit about their sex.
He continued:
“They are a boy and a girl, and they procreated! Can you believe that?”
I almost made some sort of comment about them being “at it like rabbits” but he once again cut me off.
“The little buggers are adorable and we think you would make a wonderful parent! The sooner the better because they’re going quick as hell, almost as fast as they came. We’ve already given away the two cutest, so swing by dude. It’ll be good to see you. We’re looking forward to it.”
The “we” in this scenario was Clay and his girlfriend Amity who have been inseparable for the past year since they first started dating. Its understandable but Clay was, and I guess still is my best friend and I miss the hell out of the guy. If any other person would have called me and asked me to take a rabbit I would have declined them unkindly. Hopefully this mildly explains the opacity of which I wanted to see Clay.
I also feel it would be good to see Amity. She was diagnosed with cancer shortly after her and Clay started dating and has since started chemotherapy. I haven’t seen her since the diagnosis and really wasn’t quite sure what to expect.
I arrived a little late and while they were waiting, Clay and Amity ran into town for some errands or some bullshit. Sitting in front of Amity’s house I was able to prepare myself to face Amity being bald. It was not my first time dealing with a chemo patient that had lost their hair, but I haven’t seen Amity in so long so it was going to be awkward either way. Not to mention, I am quite the awkward piece of shit.
“Jim!” Clay shouted driving down the street before pulling into Amity’s driveway. I could just barely make out her bandanna as Clay’s jeep sped by. Clay stepped out of his vehicle and greeted me like old time’s sake, as if nothing was wrong with his girlfriend. And Amity, though timid, like an injured doe hugged me. Being so close to her, I was able to make out a scar on her chest that was obviously from her treatment. It was covered up well with her shirt and from say, ten feet away you wouldn’t be able to tell it was there, but boy, did I. And I hate to say it, but it was quite the unsightly disfigurement.
What really alarmed though me was that her blemish was in nearly the exact position as my tattoo.
Clay and Amity lead me through the backyard to the bunny cages where I could check out the critters. There were 9 of them and Clay confessed to tell me that they had yet to get rid of any of them. He and Amity have been trying most exuberantly to give these rabbits away and it has been more difficult than they had foreseen. I told Clay I didn’t mind much about his ruse, I was just happy to see him.
Amity and Clay took out three of the nine baby bunnies and put them in a circular fence they equipped to contain the bunnies with enough square yardage to stretch their teeny legs. Right away, Clay asked me which one I was interested in, trying to eschew me into making a decision and taking a rabbit off of his hands. Being coaxed, I pointed to a grey one just for kicks, I didn’t mind really which one I got.
Again, being pushy, Clay asked me what name I would choose for said rabbit. I was taken aback for a second and Clay interjected “How about Anikin? Or Han Solo? No wait! Chewy! Yes Chewy! I think you should name it a Star Wars name, Amity, have you seen Jim’s tattoo?”
I have seen Clay since I’ve gotten the tattoo so I knew he was conscious of it but I hadn’t seen Amity and could only assume she might have known of it from Clay’s description only. Even though my tank top was rather revealing it still covered a good portion of my stigma and I was about to move aside one of the shoulder straps to show her when she said.
“Yeah, I noticed it. It’s pretty cool.”
A little surprised I looked down at my tattoo and then looked at Amity’s scar. They indeed were in the same location and had equal parts visibility. I looked at Amity and she met my gaze with a champion’s smirk. We were thinking the same thing, and it was a relief to know everything was pretty cool.