chimera-poiesis

stepping onto the tarmac; terrifying. the giant steel tube awaits. fear begins to take him, as his children are already boarding. time to die. moving to the back corner of the craft just before unceremonious ascension begins. lingerie catalog model beside; no sexual tension, concentration on death. increase in altitude, increase in champagne. turbulence brings nerves to a riot. Fucking great. time to die. miles away from rock or dirt; his deepest fears begin to set in. sweat stains his shirt, as kids call out names, his little pill becomes his savior. de     s cen                    sio                          

the air was cool that night as i parked in that quiet corner of town. my eyes met that somber moon seemingly bigger than ever before. the steel was cold and heavy in my hand; it carried the weight of the world. the long shadows of the trees stood serving as sanctuary from the glow of the satellite. feet moved effortlessly over green blades slippery with dew. the wind whispered in my ear, as if crying to stop me. even after countless visits to this place endless searches for you in your misery, it never looked as fresh as tonight; straight from the womb; creation. grass meets concrete and moves to rock only the sand separates

that ancient road lie before me like an old dog rays of sunset hit my windshield as i drive past those dark trees a flashlight in the dark you pass like wind touch me for a second and are gone golden hair in the breeze a second that seems infinite i can't help but love you

Golden rays barely reached the horizon, as that screen door creaked open through dust. I closed my eyes and entered Pandora's box. Memories come back like a soldier from war. The warm scent of potpourri that has lingered since childhood meets my nostrils and brings me back. The elegant sounds of Mozart radiate from these half century old walls. A child's plane chases a bird on a mobile; God's engineering versus man's. I still know this room better than my favorite book. It lies trapped now in a moment; a museum to death or to life; to a life. A life as gone as yesterday, but as forever as tomorrow. The paradox of living. Wo

Minimum wage pay rates, trapped in the overwhelming scent of fresh leather that hits your nostrils like a Mack truck. I could walk this path to the backroom with eyes shut. Rows upon rows of footwear, stretched out like the sands of the Sahara. Tornado sirens with legs run past, as un-attending adults look on. Ancient wooden benches creak under the weight of the aged men on their endless search. Models and styles that ceased production decades ago, are still sought after eternally by the elderly. Only muffled noise in the sanctuary of my break room. I take a moment to drink in the silence, before rushing back into the insanity

Frustration builds up like rust caked on the side of the artificially scented cage on wheels. Legal Orders outweigh children's opinions. Biological parents get their say. The seatbelt holds on like a predator to prey, digging its strap into my neck without mercy. Two brothers sit strapped in silence, as our father seats his sagging belly behind the wheel; a model airplane of a man. Cylinders begin to pump, as the clunker pulls down the drive. A quick glance back reveals mother's innocent face, reminding me of everything left behind. Continuation of the journey leads to a blood red stoplight. Opportunity presents itself. I

He could smell the scent of burning flesh enter his nostrils.  Satisfaction.  This moment had been a long time in coming, and it was now finally here. The flames quickly leapt from the bed to the nearby curtains, which disappeared in mere seconds; consumed by the devious fire. Before long the whole room would be ablaze, then the entire house; then there would be nothing left but ashes.  But yet, he would not be able to stay and view the eradication; he had to leave before his presence was noted. Leaving the house, the thought of how simple the whole operation had been popped into his head.  Easier than expected.  Easier than planned.  Remem

a bell rings. the smell of freshly ground coffee punches the face, as the counter assists in transforming person to customer. small tables are filled like speakeasies during prohibition. a bell rings. a young man seats himself against the wall, as punctual as a bullet train. he waits patiently. grandpa joe shuffles to the back corner, as his high school sweetheart and two cups of tea make it an occasion. swirling memories of the past. miss teen america chats on her phone, while Barbie dolls play follow the leader. rumors spread like the plague. a bell rings. the boy's head shoots up; a dog out of the gate, only to fall to that