These Things Don't Prove Potential

If school doesn't stress you out, then you are not doing it right. Exams on top of exams, papers on top of papers, bullshit assignments piled on all for just a simple piece of paper. We should not be stressing this hard over this shit. Grades do not prove a person’s worth. Just because I failed a quiz or a test, just because my GPA isn't to a certain liking does not make me any less of a human being. We are all valuable in our own ways. Just because I didn't dress up for a job fair or a job interview does not mean that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. If you judge me based on my appearance and not what I can bring to the table, that just makes you a shitty person. Just some food for thought I guess...

The Eye in the Sky

Pale white skin, battle wounds and beauty marks surround your angelic frame, such a shame.

No one understands you yet everyone has fallen in love with you.

Those around you are of an enlightened stature, they bask in the glow of your preciousness just as you bask in theirs.

A sigh of relief and warmth escapes any being that dares look at you. Majestic, Methodic, Orgasmicaly Hypnotic.

Your mere presence illuminates my soul.

Look At Her

I may not know much about her but I know that she’s mentioned after each peddle

Gets removed from all dozen and a half red flowers.

Stern expression hits her face,

I wonder if she see me looking at her?

Perfume, strong but sweet, kissed my nostrils like cartoon steam.

Her eyes majestic spaces filled with wonderment,

A smile that astonishes,

A mind full of intellect and beauty

And a body that follows it.

Sense of style that anyone could fall in love with.

A laugh, charismatic and joyous

A voice, angelic and boisterous

I’m captivated by her mere presence

And I can’t help it but something about her has me contemplating.

Vivid thoughts of what would happen if I told her everything

I’m feeling at this exact moment.

Feelings of feeling complete and I know I may be jumping the gun at this second

But I can’t help but mention that her mere essence is something so precious.

Something special that burrows itself deep inside of my mind…

The Girl with the Glasses

I saw you from a distance. Straight locks of brownish-blackish hair just resting past your shoulders. Glasses placed on your forehead, eyes tired after what I can only assume was a long day. Smile slowly fading, tough times cloud your judgment, stress levels over 9000. The little time it took from laughing and joking around to my mind consumed with images of your smile was surprising even for me. Even last night when I was completely inebriated, I couldn’t help but think of you and what you were up to. Maybe it was the feeding off of the goofiness from one another or the fact that you’re totally different than everyone else and I know I say that a lot but this is the first time I’ve meant it. You have an interesting mentality, the go all or go home attitude, what started off as fun quickly turned competitive, basketball games tend to do that. I’m corrupted by the corpses of past relationships but when I look at you it feels like we’re in sync. Swimming towards positive things, hearts on our sleeves, time on our wrists, and I promise you that if/when we eventually do become something, I will fight to maintain it. I believe that we can really be something special. 

Hunger For More

A friend of mine refused to eat the remainder of a pizza because there was no pepperoni on it. She said that a pizza without pepperoni is just bread with cheese, so I told her that “we are poor college kids.” Sometimes you have to fucking worry about eating because you are one, watching your money and two, trying to finish all of your assignments on time while trying to have a social life and decent sleep schedule, you have no time to eat and when you do it’s all bad shit. My roommate has had at least 2-4 all nighters; I have gone with no sleep once in my lifetime and I barely functioned. I can’t even imagine going to class and trying to take a quiz. I praise people that can do that because they are striving for what they want to achieve even if it means hallucinating due to lack of zzz's. The poor diet of a college kid is due to the levels of stress going into their body. Why else would energy drinks and Top Ramen be a part of the meal plan? I knew that school would push me to my limit but is this shit supposed to take this big of a toll on you? 

Near Death

If I wouldn't have moved out of the way, I wouldn't be here right now. And it wasn't even like we were in the dark and everything, we had flashlights; the other cars moved out of the way just fine but that damn truck. I almost fucking died last night. I almost got hit by a fucking truck, if I wouldn't have followed my friend, I would've definitely been hit, head on. Hell if I would've been an inch out, I would've been side-swiped. And as if I didn't already hate Ford enough, it just so happened to be an F-150 that almost ran me down. Near death experiences are fucking terrifying… 

Raise My Body from the Ground

An ordinary day, a clouded mind, multiple thoughts cascading down my mental ladder. Tired of work, tired of reading, tired of multiple assignments at once. Words fill the page; the ink in the pen is running low as words keep filling the page. Characters and settings to memorize, poetry to analyze, consistent homework for three days now. Three days. I’m not tired physically; my psyche is the one with the fucking problem. I’m drained emotionally and I don’t know why. Call it being homesick, call it lack of human contact in the sense that I tend to go straight from my room to class then back to my room and shut myself away usually to do homework, or you can call it just one of those damn days. I’m just tired and sure I could partake in shit that’ll help me but those things would just change the topic only for me to come rushing back to everything all over again. An ordinary day, a clouded mind. A clouded day, an ordinary mind… 

Just Another Day

For the first time ever, I’m away from the family on my birthday. And it feels weird. Not only weird because it’s on a Monday, not only because I’m not really going to be able to celebrate it, and not even because I didn't really celebrate it this weekend, all I did the entire time was homework. It feels weird because I don’t feel like it’s my birthday; it feels like just another day to me. Nothing special is happening, no cake, no presents, at least perhaps not until next weekend when Mother Dear comes to visit but for the meantime it’s just another start of the week, another day of class and homework, another day of life passing by. 

Like Fine China

I know nothing about her except for her first name. I don’t know what she likes or what she hates; I don’t know anything about her life or her faith. I know nothing of her past or her present but if I get enough courage to actually say something, I could be a part of her future. I know nothing about her except for what she looks like. Beautiful eyes and a damn adorable smile. She likes to travel or so I believe. She exceeds in passion or so I imagine. What’s her creativity like? Will we be able to compare mine to hers and see if they’re in sync? I know nothing about her except for the sound of her voice. Soft and orchestral, her laugh contagious like the flu and I wouldn’t mind catching said sickness. I’ve only exchanged few words with her but I’ll be damned if I didn’t think about her afterwards. I know nothing about her except for the fact that she hasn’t stopped running laps in my mind for almost a full day, I don’t see her stopping for a break anytime soon and I’ve never been more ok with that. I welcome it actually…

Tell the Reaper Come and Get Me

I have written about drugs, sex, and violence.

I have been in and out of love.

I have helped deceive and have been deceived.

I have had horrible thoughts swimming inside of my mind.

I will throw you under the bus and hold your head underwater kick you while you’re down and proceed to bury your body.

I have had the feeling of my soul being empty

I helped one person cheat on their significant other, on their anniversary.

I was rude to certain people at certain times.

I judged certain people at certain times.

I swear like a sailor.

I am dedicated and determined.

I am not overly cocky.

I will often get drunk specifically to write.

I used to see women as objects for no specific reason. Now I love them for their minds, their intriguing way of thinking, and their personalities.

I used to care about what people thought about me, now I could give two shits about their opinion towards me because I know who I am and what I stand for and I know my strengths and barely know my weaknesses.

My heart is worth triple the amount that my physical appearance is worth.

I speak with a sober mind but spill out intoxicated words.

I speak the truth and rarely find it any other way.

I’d rather have you hate me for being honest than to go about the day lying to you.

Judge me on my past, my writing, or my character if you must, I know that my heart is made out of gold because of my mistakes. They have made me who I am… 

Dear Mama

Being away from home is a real strange feeling. Not waking up in my own room, not being able to see my best friend Odie, feels just odd. Not being close to the family, close to my mom it’s so weird. I’m luckily close to my brother but considering he’ll be working most of the time, I’ll only get to see him once in a while. But I know that I’m here for a reason. I’m here to continue my educational life and succeed, all the while making the family proud. So even though it’ll bring me down from time to time, even though a sudden rush of homesickness will hit at random intervals, I am here for not only myself, not only the family, but I am here for her. The lady that has provided so much love and support and knowledge. The lady that held me when I hurt or cried that shared multiple laughs and that yelled at me or called me out on stupidity. I am here for her; I am doing this for my mom. 

Increasing Your Heart Rate

        Her hand clutched the back of my head as I was in between her legs giving the downstairs neighbor a wicked tongue lashing. The actions that transpired that night are blurry due to possibly the few beers, the excitement, or the fact that all the blood from my head headed south. It wasn’t just kissing and touching nor was it the penetrating and sweating. It was more than that, it was the conversation we had prior, the kisses to her forehead, the listening to music that made us feel something in that moment. It was the way our eyes kept meeting in between sentences and we couldn’t help but smile, it was the clothes she was wearing then not wearing. It was her laughter, the stupid jokes, the look on her face while she was on top of me and I thrust myself further inside of her. Hitting the exact target, the spot that made her clutch my shoulders and dig her nails into my chubby limb. It wasn’t just about her eyes or her hair or her ass. It wasn’t about the sex, it was about her and me just being fucking together and being just one solid unit. It was about leaving all of the bullshit behind, forgetting about the outside world for a split second and just concentrating on the synchronized movement of our bodies as we came closer and closer to that one last powerful moan, the final thrust, the grabbing her gently and laying her down on her back and kissing her the whole way down. See it was more than just sex; it was the passion and romance. It was about sealing whatever our relationship was even if it was only a temporary contract. It was about love... 

I Apologize for my Gender

Dear Ladies,

I apologize for my gender for treating you like pieces of meat. For treating the ones who are deemed “sexy” like something they think they can just put their dick in and those that are deemed “ugly” like trash. I apologize for them treating you like property and not like a human being. I’m sorry for all the bullshit cat calling and misogyny and for thinking that you all are nothing but items on a menu at Popeye’s.

I apologize for the abuse: sexual, physical, and mental. I apologize for those dirtbags who have taken advantage of you and the system fucks up every time and answered the deed with “boys will be boys.” No woman should have to go through that, I truly am sorry. What I’ve realized over the past couple of months that news has hit where men take drastic, mostly deadly measures against those women who “rejected” them is that the male group of humanity is fucking crazy. Now I’ll admit I have my temper when it comes to certain things and yes back in high school, I was one of those guys that chose body over brain any day and I would get rejected constantly but I wouldn’t hate the girls who did it, I would continue to be a good friend and step off with my advances.  As I matured, I realized that I admired the hell out of the female mind, it’s fascinating up there. Comedian Donald Glover once said in a stand up, “you know why you never hear a crazy boyfriend story? Because if you have a crazy boyfriend, you’re gonna die.” I mean everyone gets rejected, it’s fucking life. That’s no reason to go ape shit and kill people. The streets shouldn’t be covered in blood because a couple of assholes can't handle a tiny rejection. I’m sorry for all the bullshit that you have to deal with from men. I’m sorry they place you below them, when if we as a gender think about it, we all came from women. Without our mothers, grandmothers, etc we wouldn’t be jack shit. So why would we as men, treat the opposite sex badly or treat anyone badly for that matter? What the hell do we have to gain from it? We should be praising women for all they do. However this is just my opinion, I was always brought up to respect women…

Paint Me as a Villain/Problem with Authority

If I saw every manager and supervisor I've ever encountered,  I’d burn them alive by mixing battery acid into their gin and tonic, I've got a problem with authority. I have a problem with authority and not all authority but more work related. I have a problem with getting treated like I don’t fucking matter, that I’m below everyone, and I’m sure a lot of people feel like this but I can’t speak for them. I have a problem with authority in the sense that if I made a mistake that I know I made, don’t rub it in my face. Let’s be mature about this shit and move on. Don’t keep going and then be fucking surprised when my tone of voice becomes stern and serious because you decided you wanted to keep repeating whatever lame ass thing you were saying about the said mistake made. And I understand that my tone may come out stronger than anticipated so I will apologize, even though I don’t feel like I was in the wrong because I mean who the fuck likes getting picked on and talked down to? Don’t be a dickhead about my apology either. If I’m man enough to apologize, don’t accept it yet continue to spout off some nonsense that you think will “make me feel bad.” When in reality, I could give two fucks about what you think or what you have to say. They say never bite the hand that feeds you and I totally agree yet don’t be surprised when you mistreat what you’re feeding and then it suddenly bites off your leg from the knees. Weird rant I know but this damn job has officially gotten to me. 4 more weeks and I’m done. 

I'm Killing Me Trying to Kill You

I’m fighting the urge to call you even though I know if I do, you’ll just ignore it because, well because it’s me calling. I want to brag about the multiple women I have slept with just to prove to you that all of your bullshit has evaporated from my mind but in reality it’s all just fantasies and internet porn, hell I even began to have imaginary sex with my non-realistic red-headed curvaceous dorm mate who just so happened to greet me, naked. To my shock, the school had co-ed dorms which isn’t really shocking but when your dorm mate is that crazy gorgeous well then shit. Anyways, I want it to eat at you that shit has improved on my end. Like twins I want it to burn you like acid reflux when I ingest the deliciousness that is her spit. I want it to sting when I prick my finger on a motherfucking thorn except when I do I can’t help but vomit up the amount of tequila that you drank from the night before. Oftentimes, I pass by the mirror and see you on the other side, modeling some skimpy lingerie for some no nut having sack of shit that doesn’t even deserve you. More times than I’d like to admit, I’ll jerk forward or backward and I know that there’s nothing I can do about it but just wait for it to cease, I can however scream in agony that “this Fucking has to stop!” I want you to feel how bad it was to think, to breathe, hell to feel. I want you to forever picture what could’ve been and not what the hell is, I want you to remember those times you talked to me about your relationship troubles and all the sexual things you would tell me about the two of you and how my fucked up mentality would make the scenario that much more realistic. I want you to know about these things because when it was just the two of us, it was everything to me, but now it’s just nothing to you…

Grateful

      I came home from a tough day at work beaten and sore and I couldn't help but think of my old man who would bust his ass everyday to provide for his family. Sure some days were easier than others but the goal was always the same, it's not just for you but for those you love as well. Thanks for the life lessons, Pop...

Things to Offer

            I’m moderately good looking, I have a big stomach, better yet I have a decent amount of fluff to me. I have a great smile, decent hair and beard, I have tattoos and piercings, I have only 2 reviewers who say my four play skills are fantastic and my sexual moves aren't too shabby either, so I’m not sure if I have anything to offer

            

           I've been fired from 2 jobs over some bullshit (food poisoning for one and I forgot the other) and have spent the better part of a year and a half looking for a job meaning my only source of income is doing odd jobs (i.e. cleaning family houses, driving grandma places, babysitting, etc) so I’m not sure if I have anything to offer.

            I’m gullible at times, I’m very honest not enough to hurt anyone’s feelings but if you ask me what’s on my mind, I’ll tell you the truth. I’m a comic book nerd but more in the sense that I admire superheroes and villains and their stories yet have only read about 10 actual comic books in my lifetime. I’m passionate about writing and art and all things creative. The creativity in human beings is remarkable and I technically feed off of it. I drink on occasion; I smoke on occasion, sometimes both on the same occasion. I love music and watching movies and TV. I belong to specific fandoms. I’m a lover not a fighter. I cook and clean. I give my heart to whoever is willing to accept it, what they do with it is up to them. I’m a man’s best friend type of guy. I love women and I damn sure respect them. I’m a sap when it comes to romantic-esque situations. Last but not least, if I call you beautiful, even though you may not think you are, I damn sure think so and then some. Even if you have scars or stretch marks or hate how your hair gets poofed up in humidity, I don’t care if you’re big or small, what color eyes or what color hair, none of that matters to me and no other girl will be able to match your unique beauty. So again I’m not really sure if I have anything to offer you. 

Things We Treasure

            Even though we've never actually met face to face, I can swear we’ve known each other for years. The way we sync up on a mentality level is really the basis of our intriguing relationship. I do hope that when we finally do meet, she’ll love being around me. I mean personality wise, she’s fond of me mainly because she’s mentioned it a couple of times but I feel that when we meet, something will come together like puzzle pieces and it’ll just feel great. I do hope that with my random tangents or extensions in conversation that I am not coming across as that one guy who won’t shut the hell up. I mean she makes me a better person and not even in a romantic way or in the “I have a goal concerning her” type of way, more like in the way that we’re able to cheer each other up and just have a great time within the words written in our back and forth messages. I think about her a lot and again nothing sexual or romantic but more along the lines of “I wonder if she’s alright, I hope her day is going well, when she says no one treats her like I do, I can’t help but wonder why no one can see how cool she is, etc.” And sure maybe we click so well due to our similarities but maybe our differences add to that factor as well. She’s a very special girl who I care for dearly, I can safely say that I got her back and she damn sure has mine even if for the moment, it’s within the confines of our cell phone screens. 

Words, Things, and What-not

            I speak the truth, there are those that take it with a grain of salt, it’s honestly the way I talk, though words are never catching fault. Pronunciation and exploitation along with the way different people phrase and say them, turn words into a sexual type of thing. For example, “I’m going to kill myself but maybe browse the holy book of psalms and maybe I’ll just heal thyself and spread this luck of potential wealth or turn a fucking phrase or two and wind up back at the gates of hell.” Words are poetic, a little hectic; they provide rhyme and reason or sometimes just some info to get you from that to this. Words can keep you guessing but there’s always a twist: Jack was nimble and he was quick, there was a Cat in a Hat, and Wayne Brady threatened to choke a bitch. This girl with an accent simply asked me a question causing me to turn brainless for just a few seconds. My brain sits intoxicated as it thinks of the many places that I have vividly contemplated, it really is quite amazing. And she is quite amazing, not someone in particular but as a whole, the female race. Just filled with wonderment and astonishment, something we can all admire, each writing their own fears and dreams and being able to publish it. See, words aren’t just in books and poems or the cover of a magazine. Words are beauty and art and everything we envision them to be. Words are powerful and magical. You can destroy planets and yet build universes with them. That’s why I write because words are beautiful and hurtful. They can be anything you want them to be. 

Thoughts From A Balcony

            If I plummet to the ground by hopping over this shady railing, I’ll be giving up this wonderful sight that I am currently inhaling. A horizon of such brightness, where my future has been decided as if it’s written within the confines of my own subconscious. Pages fly past me, bright lights keep flashing, I’m so fucking high…off life that I can’t stop being happy. Beauty all around me, from the people walking down below to the graffiti in the alleys. The sun burns bright like 10 crack pipes being lit under the bridge off of Distortion Pike, a sinful place known for the corrupted cops and it’s walkers of the night. Birds and planes soar high above the sky where clouds show a rendition of a fatal drive-by. As darkness covers every part of the city, beautiful beams of light come from each and every building. The world is a wonder and I know some of it is evil, there’s amazement in its nature and all the bullshit you have to see through. I look on the positive side of the spectrum so that my self-investment remains as such. Finding the strong amongst the gritty, the truth amongst the pity, I've chosen my path correctly. As I stare out towards the sky, incredible visions catch my eyes, for these are but simple thoughts from a balcony. 

10 Words or Less

I can’t even kiss someone, especially drunk without thinking…

Even if the tension had been building, I can’t stop thinking…

Maybe it’s because I was there for her…

Maybe she wanted to return the favor…

Maybe I surprised her with not being like most guys…

And it’s not like we had just met…

This was a 4 day ordeal…     

And sure we flirted back and forth but…

Why the fuck did it have to happen whilst drunk?

She obviously didn't remember, but I can’t stop forgetting…

Memories of her face, the way her lips tasted…

Scrumptious lip balm mixed with vodka…

We were both fucked up yet I clearly remember…

Maybe I’m just thinking too much about it…

Maybe it was all just a drunken occurrence…

Then why is it, no matter how hard I try…

I can’t get the images out of my head? 

Thoughts Can't Breathe

A cloudy mind mixed with alcohol is a dangerous thing. Drunk, not actually with alcohol but with my own thoughts. Drunk on multiple scenarios concerning not only myself but those around me. Friends who often times feel down and family who often times are stumped both financially and emotionally. I myself am battling images of past infatuations and the thought of being alone for quite some time yet I don’t know if it’s because I truly want to be in a relationship or if I just want the companionship and not just with any generic thing but that member of the opposite sex who you’re close with. The person who has your back just how you have there’s, the person that you can talk to about life or love or why as kids we didn’t realize that the cartoons we used to watch were written by a bunch of stoners. The person that isn’t family but more a part of your close-knit team. The person you can go to when shit doesn’t go right that day and they’ll greet you with open arms. I know that sounds like any ol generic friend but I don’t know maybe I’ve just been out of the loop for too long. Or maybe I do indeed need that sincere relationship that could possibly change things. 

I'm Still F*cking With You

I can’t stop thinking about you. When I’m sober or when I’m drunk as all fuck, you’re the only person that comes to mind. And I ask myself why? Like fuck I get it, you were a big part of what made me, well me but it’s been ages and I still can’t help but think of every fucking event that happened between us. And sure maybe some of them weren’t so great or nothing too magical happened but I’ll be damned if that doesn’t stop me from thinking of you. I wish I could make it stop but that’s not going to happen anytime soon which will eventually cause me some fucked up trauma but at the same time I need to let it in to grow as a person, I guess. Now I wish you all the best and hope your life turns out great but for the meantime just know that my mind will from to time think of all of the shit that we went through and I’ll be somewhat grateful while at the same time question my fucking subconscious as to why it’s showing me images of your fucking gorgeous eyes and smile. Damn…

I Come in Peace

I always wonder if I’m the type of guy to be labeled as creepy by the opposite sex. Am I a stalker? No. Do I randomly text girls who I think are friends yet we only talk every once in a while with me basically starting the conversation? Absolutely. Am I the type of guy to be straight forward with a girl yet compliment her as well? Damn Skippy. But maybe that’s what makes me creepy. Maybe it’s the fact that I care about people which in turn is how I turned out to be a good listener. I like being a shoulder for others, I’m a giver I guess you could say but again maybe that’s what makes me creepy. If conversations do tend to happen with a girl, aside from the usual “getting to know one another,” nothing changes. I don’t ask for naked pictures, no figuring out whether you’re trying to “fuck or not.” I don’t play that stupid shit; I’m more of the type of person to analyze and respect your mentality and personality before anything else. Maybe it’s the fact that I love women. They fascinate me and not just the sexual/ body language aspect of it. I mean human beings in general; we're some fascinating fucking creatures. What I mean is I respect women, do I understand them however? Hell no but I am a guy so how could I? So I feel as though I’m considered a creeper to the opposite sex although I can’t help but wonder why? 

Everything I Do

Forgive me for anything negative in my past and forgive me for any shit that may happen in the future. I am only a man better yet I am only human. The love I will have for you will only be for you. Even though I’m a hopeless romantic and I’ve had crushes on multiple girls, no matter which girl it was, my attention was always towards her. It didn’t matter if other girls tried to get my attention or if I talked to girls that were merely friends; my line of sight was always aiming at her. I dedicate my time to her. Every story, every piece of this puzzle we call life, all of it just fascinates me. The fact that she’s family and goal oriented matches up with everything I’m about. Future lady of my dreams here is the point of all of this, if we are together I may occasionally talk to other women and not in a sexual manner, I may occasionally not say the right thing but you will be the only one who I’ll cook for, who I’ll be a goofy jackass with, and who I’ll show my undying love for. That is unless it’s the real deal, we get married, and we have a daughter together because then you’ll have to share with her. 

Time of Death

Almost 10 hours ago, a very dear friend of mine passed away. Her name was Blue, she was a Blue Tick Hound and she was only 8 years old. Blue, I just want to say that I’m sorry that you had to go so soon. I hope you enjoyed your time with us. We did our absolute best to provide a great home for you. I hope you know how much we love you and how much we’ll miss you and even though I would sometimes yell at you like any companion does from time to time, you were a fantastic dog and an incredible friend. Say Hi to my dad for us. Rest Easy Girl. 

Leave You Alone

I’m haunted by my memories. The memories of us, the memories of you. Your smile, your laugh, the look you would give me, the sparkle in your eye that gave me a hint as to what you were feeling. Every hug, every kiss, every little bit of warmth that was caused by the both of us.

But I have to leave it alone.

I’m haunted by the stories we shared with each other. Stories of past mistakes and future goals, tales of our ambitious mentalities and how we wouldn’t stop until we achieved everything. Thrilling pleasantries of what we would do with each other if the cards that we were dealt were played correctly.

But I have to leave it alone.

I’m haunted by the expressions on your face when my fingers decided to explore every part of your body. The explicit moans, the awe-inspiring gasps, the joyous shivers and the content smile. The playful yet rough force of our lips touching as clothes were ripped off and skin was beginning to show.

But I have to leave it alone.

I’m haunted by everything that happened between us, all sexual acts aside, what we had was unique. It was comforting and wonderful and intriguing. We were cranium over toes for each other and yet neither of us could fully understand it. I’m haunted by our time together, by our past, by what we were, and most of all by you. 

But I somehow have to leave you alone…

Perhaps They Are Not Stars...

In 5 years many things have happened, both good and bad but the one thing that never changes is the love I have for you. The fact that I miss you on a daily basis and also the fact that even though it barely shows, I am working my hardest to make you proud. Perhaps that is why I always feel the need to share these little messages with you on a yearly basis. Perhaps the work your two kids are putting into achieving their goals is proof that they are dead set on getting a thumbs up. Perhaps that is why the higher power decided to take you away from us. I was mad for quite some time about that but I now understand that you need to be up there to watch over us, to lend an ear when things get rough and to somehow give out a few beat downs when we act out. And even though I understand why you were taken, I still have the right to be sad. I love you Pop and I miss you and I will see you again someday but for the meantime I’ll be looking up at the stars where I’ll see that big goofy smile shining bright, reassuring us that you’re ok. 

Short Story : 606

Change of plans, instead of actually showing you bits and pieces from the upcoming book. I'll be showing a few random short stories first, only 2 or fewer people have actually read said stories so I want you guys to go all out and be my critics, let me know what worked, what didn't work, etc. This story is not going in my book it was just an assignment I had in my writing class that I wrote a while ago that I developed into my own odd/sickening creation. Enjoy!

606

By Richard Gonzalez

            The screech from the tires of the 18 wheeler still buzzed around in my mind. It had been over a month and I still couldn’t seem to get an ounce of sleep. The visions continued to haunt my life. The noises that filled my world were enough to make me gladly accept a straight jacket and a padded room. Sounds of glass and metal shattering and people screaming for their lives. It had been one whole damn month and my mind refused to fuck with me.

            It was a casual Wednesday morning. The sun was beaming and it was a good 82 degrees outside. I was headed towards Centreville to purchase some supplies. The landscaping company I owned was doing fantastic especially considering it was mulch/ spring cleaning season. I pulled into my favorite little food establishment on route 606. A little diner that would make the best sandwiches, only now it’s a parking spot for the neighboring business. A Gatorade in one hand and a steak, egg, and cheese bagel in the other hand, I guess made that morning that much better.

            Pulling out of the diner, going at the normal pace, the only real thing on my mind was just how beautiful the weather was that day. A grey Prius, somewhat new except for the empty space where the left brake light should be, decided to cut me off. Whatever this jackass’ problem was that he was in such a rush wasn’t going to beat another successful week, landscaping wise anyways. Crossing the small bridge on 606, all I really remember saying was “Oh Shit!”

            The grey Prius swerved onto incoming traffic with no hesitation. As I pressed on my brake pedal, damn near smashing my foot all the way through the floor of my truck a la Flintstones style, I was almost hit from the back by the few cars behind me. They stopped in time to witness the grey Prius play chicken with a red Target 18 wheeler. As both cars impacted, the driver of the Prius went flying through the windshield. The front grills of each car became mangled mesh of metal. The front right tire of the Prius popped off and hopped over the barricade of the bridge, swan diving into the river. The grey hood slammed into the windshield of the Prius, causing the remaining glass to be shattered in the process. The front half of the Prius was being devoured by the mouth of the 18 wheeler.

            Airbags deployed immediately after impact. The driver of the 18 wheeler was knocked out cold. The driver of the grey Prius was dead. Swallowed along with his car by the 18 wheeler. It wasn’t until the police showed up and the cars pulled apart that we could fully see the carnage. His head and upper body were engulfed in the mangled metal of both grills. Blood and chunks of meat were laid out all over the pavement and remains of the Prius.

            His mid section remained wrapped around the hood of his car, with both feet planted firmly on the steering wheel. His entrails were laid out perfectly on the hot gravel making a sizzling sound as if a barbeque were to be had. When the police and medical examiners forcefully removed the upper body remains of the Prius’ driver, the grotesque scene of his head being caved into his neck was something that no one should ever see. Especially due to the fact that a few of his teeth and one of his eyeballs were inserted into one of the multiple cuts surrounding his neck.

            Everyone got out of their cars hesitant at first. No words were said at least not until the police showed up and even then it was difficult to get a word out of anyone’s mouth. After a few hours of questioning the driver of the 18 wheeler while he was getting looked at by the medics, my time to get the good cop/bad cop routine came. Considering I was behind the guy, they thought I could provide some sort of Intel. But I was too baffled and distraught from what the hell just happened that the cops withdrew their questions. Plus, considering I didn’t know the guy there was no way I was going to be much help.

            I got home and just hugged my wife who had the strangest look on her face, I guess due to me being home after I had just left. But after I told her what happened we just sat in silence for a while contemplating on the poor driver of the grey Prius. Every chance I had of sleeping dissolved. Hours passed of me tossing and turning, picturing the mangled mess that was left of the Prius’ driver. It came down to taking Ambien and Lunesta by the handfuls, yet that didn’t help with my problem. After about the first week, I started downing a couple of pills a night with a beer or two just to see if I was somehow able to pass out. Luckily one night I was able to sleep like a rock but that’s when the nightmares started happening. My dreams were always of the crash with a few tweaks added. Often times the grey Prius would go over the bridge and fall into the river. Other times the driver would simply walk out of the crash without a scratch and just go on a full blown rampage to try and end his life all over again.

            The most vivid one I remember didn’t even have to do with the crash but with the diner. I remember walking in, making my order, and heading towards the drinks. A man with a red hat and a green sleeveless jacket walked in. From the cuts and bruises all over his arms, this guy must’ve been in one hell of a scrap last night. He had a poorly trimmed beard and bags under his eyes with the most hateful expression on his face. The only thing he kept mumbling was “today is the day.” Over and over again, even when the cashier tried to make small talk those were the only words that escaped his mouth. Everyone in the diner felt quite uneasy; as we watched him exit he got into his car, a grey Prius and just sat there staring down almost as if praying to whoever he worshiped.

            I proceeded to get out of the diner, turn on the radio and take a bite out of my delicious meal. I guess the guy was waiting for someone to leave. The real reason I mainly remember this dream is due to him not cutting me off in it. I passed the bridge with ease, even passed by the 18 wheeler. Through my rearview, I could see the grey Prius hauling ass. With a loud bang, I saw a giant explosion which not only took out the driver of both the Prius and the 18 wheeler but it destroyed the entire bridge and anyone who was crossing it. The sudden tremble of the “bomb” going off caused me to wake up instantly.

            Most nights I would wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air almost in the exact same fashion that most nightmare sequences go down in movies. I tried keeping my mind occupied to the best of my ability but to no avail. I kept thinking to myself “why would somebody end their life? Not just that but why would somebody want to do it, in the likely chance that it would hurt others?” I once read a blog post in which the author said, “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” We all have our demons; I guess the driver’s demon caught up to him.

            Going back to my usual routine was quite difficult. The whole aspect of going to somebody’s house to do landscaping work didn’t fill me with the joy it used to. Everything the workers did was always wrong and not timed perfectly. On top of that I kept getting horrible hallucinations and hearing tires screeching. I remember one day, we were planting some flowers for a lawyer at his gorgeous home. One of the workers tossed a couple of the shovels down on the ground so that we could dig. A piece of dry dirt from the shovel jumped up from the impact and hit me on the cheek. I looked him dead in the eye and well to tell the truth, I blacked out. In my paranoia, I imagined that the dry dirt turned out to be a piece of meat that flew off of the driver of the grey Prius. I imagined that as soon as the cars impacted all of the guts and blood that splashed out from the crash hit me with such fury. I came to screaming, to all of the other workers looking at me in shock. Apparently, I went off on a huge tangent about barbequed human flesh and the tattered remains of metal meeting skin and bones.

            I finally decided to go seek help and talk about everything that I had witnessed. Due to not wanting to look crazy I decided to seek more family help than professional help. Luckily, a cousin of mine had a degree in Psychology; boy did he get an ear full. I told him all of my problems, detailed the crash exactly how it happened and all of the horrible shit that I saw. I kept going over to his house a couple of times a month. We eventually switched to forms of meditation, so that my mind would ease itself out of this traumatic stress.

            Slowly but surely, time eventually helped calm the madness. It’s been one year since this tragedy happened. It’s hard to block out certain things in life, especially considering I cross the bridge on route 606 damn near every week. After that hellish time, it took about two full weeks to finally regain my sanity and even then it took many more months of meditation to maintain my psyche. I was able to forget about the accident and the scenery that death provided for me that day. Even though I still remember every detail of it, my mind has balanced itself out and although it took some time, I am able to close my eyes. Yet why is it that I still hear the screeching of those damn tires and I still can’t get any sleep?