This is maybe a screenplay. Short story. Who knows. It will find its way. Or die in obscurity. Either way. Comments

L, Back from outer space to push the blade in my back deeper still? I was just starting to think about a life without you. I even thought maybe starving myself of affection had become habitual. Maybe it was time to end. And you show up not like I asked. Not for me. You came back to prove that god is absent.

If you struggle it will only make it worse I don’t want to hurt you but I will if you insist. ………..

Deadly Whispered the threat out into the swamp it slithers. Whispers to children that follow faithfully. Raw. A new atmosphere is where you’ll find me now. Here come crocodile here come snake whispering do what you want. And …..

Here they come. here they come in shiny black talons. Long satin silk from the deepest blue and the darkest forever. And eyes like infinite abyss. Be careful kids. For if you stare too long into the abyss The abyss stares back. Here they come. Anonymity is a blessing You

The inventor and the Mechanical Butterfly She was born the first and only child of an inventor and a socialite during a much happier time. The intricacies of their courtship were long lost to history but What is known was documented for posterity and is mostly about him. For he was born to local royalty in a mansion that may have always been. As far back as is recorded the house most certainly existed in one manner or another. The exact year of completion, general location, and duration of

The penguin king was worshipped by men. In a village not too far from here. He came from a star that fell in the ocean. The first thing he saw was a penguin as he sank to the ocean floor. So he took that form trying his best to fit in. He ate fish and only wanted more. Eventually he ate all the fish he could see. And no penguins would talk to him. He had no penguin friends.

The last day of the inventor He woke up that day. Had a cup of coffee. An egg. Poached. He dressed. Slowly. Not feeling his best. Cold bare feet on the hard wood floor. On the stone step. He made his way down the steps. When out of no where a giant golden owl called his name. He was so startled he lost his footing. He teetered. He tottered. He fell he fell he fell. He never made it to the last step. You’re gonna lay there. Did you feel that? Chill your bones. Did you feel that?? At the bottom of the stairs. You’re gonna lay there. Somebody’s walking over your grave. To this fate you’re a slave. Somebody’s walking over your grave. Did you feel that?? No one’s home. At the bottom of the stairs Chills the bones And you’re gonna lay there Watch yourself stay there Til you’re gone. Til you’re home. Cold as stone. No one’s home. Go Back where you’re from

This is an excerpt or two from a book I wrote. It’s all kind of unfamiliar it was a while ago I wrote it.

Poems for you to mull over. I’ll ad more as I get a chance. I have hundreds of them collecting dust.