Love in Little Tokyo

You are like a suicide in Little Tokyo

Horror in a neon culture that makes us hold each other

You ask would the rain brutally murder water-walking Jesus

You are the appeal unknown to the stable

You are a shine far beneath moonlight

To love you

Is to love surrounded by smogged purples and blues

You call like the first cigarette

And speak like the last

 

We were always wrong for each other

I live a life of midnights peeling wax

Using a candle to see what I’m doing

So I kiss you like we are not built to last

Just to be the last

The lonely ones

The only ones

To hold each other

Like there’s a suicide in Little Tokyo

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Two Sentence Short stories

“You can’t make a story with just two sentences”!

“Watch me”.

 

After the wing healed, I let her go.

I believed in angels after that.

 

“You’re going to die alone”.

“That may be, but I’ll live with her”.

 

“You deserve someone who knows you better.

And here, I saved you the blue M&Ms”.

 

A tree landed on my car before it spun out of control.

I got out of my car and said “Thanks Dad, and rest in peace”.

 

“I like things a gentleman should not enjoy” he said.

“I’ve got handcuffs in my bag” she replied with a smile.

 

“That’s ok sweetie, we all have demons”.

“Are yours in your basement too”?

 

It was a boy meets girl story until the dick pic was sent.

He was surprised to say the least.

Weighting

She is happy

Boppy

Talkative over an empty cup of coffee

She descended downstairs to the bathroom and us as a crowd

Were not as loud

At the foot of the stairs she returned

And every preconception burned

I could tell she was paper thin

But no one heard her call food a sin

 

She wrapped up her smile

In her pocket was where it was kept

Saving it for the triumph

Called the top step

There are no words to iterate

No diction to explain

The lack of energy she had moving

How each step was tackled with such strain

How skin and bone clutched onto the hand rail

But she was on her feet and refused to be beat

She promised herself she would witness defeat

As often as she would eat

And she ascended

Sitting comfortably in her seat

Asking about the crowd absent of her

And how it did fare

I was not looking forward to my trip home

Buses trams and walking to get there

But her tired tired wings had so much more

They had a flight of stairs

I’m No Good at Titles

I really hate rhyme

Could never get the hang of it

Or keep it in time

It should be banned across the nation

And don’t get me started on alliteration

 

Answers towards alliteration elude me with ease

Which is a shame because it is a skill to savour

A serenade of words sung by those with style

But one thing I loath lower than alliteration

Is fine language

 

I stand at a precipice when faced

With the more articulated parts of the language

I view such trivial efforts to sound educated

As a fruitless endeavour

Wrought with pretension and solitude

From those of virtue and truth

 

When all these aspects of writing

Stand like termites together

They charge at me with a united cause

Birds of a feather

Determined to give a monstrous migraine

To this man who would not

Pity any and all who deem these cheap maneuvers

As something that should be sought

The Silent Darkness

I am not asking have you listened somewhere quiet

I am not asking can you hear as much

As the deaf

I am asking you

Can you hear the silence

That deafening nothing that cannot be withstood

That sound that falls on earth owned by those beneath it

As birds stop singing and trees no longer rustle you must

Scream scream scream

For it is coming

For ears deaf and lendable alike

Can you hear it yet

———————————————————————————————————————————–

I am not asking can your vision cut through the dark

I am not asking what mechanical goggles or animal eyes can see

Upon the night’s descent

I am asking you

Can you see the darkness

Are you able to watch it siphon street lamps

And sabotage the sleep of children

This is beyond the absence of sun

This is where we drown

When there is no light to behold

Even the blind can succumb to the sight

Can you see it yet