iisthewalrus

Your hands gently placed the thin lanterns on the tarp. My breath is visible in the air. Floating up and away like smoke from a fire. I watched it go up to the stars but then my eyes went back to you. Mittens hanging from your pale wrists as you lined up all the lanterns. I peered off the roof far down at the parking lot below us. Father Gerald is taking over tonight. He leads the congregation in songs about the birth of Christ. The "real" reason for Christmas. This is more of a get together. A public choir concert done as a teaser for the big Christmas Eve party. They don't see us up on the roof. The rest of the younger generations in the c

Fireflies dance along with us Under jubilant stars that shine Our dancing was fueled by the band Not the dancing our youth is accustomed to But the dancing generations before us pioneered This is a celebration of the coming season The closing of one month and the bringing of another We learn quickly As we have this whole month Gaining the knowledge of quick footsteps and soulful music The band sang of lovers on summer nights And all the lovers danced that night A trombone was placed in my hands and I played along Along to the laughter the dancing The trombone is taken from me and replaced with you We resume dancing to t

Torturous. Electric shock. Water boarding. Stretched on the rack. It all seems so trivial when I see you with him. He does not love you. He doesn't understand the meaning of the word. He will never understand until he can grow up. You don't love him. You're afraid of him. Afraid of what he'll do. We all know about the steroids he takes. It makes him angry all the time. It makes him angry with you. But I still can't stand it. I just sit there watching him treat you like an accessory. I would never treat you like that. You are never something to be owned. You are better then that. He needs one of those plastic barbie doll girls that we mak

Heat like you've never felt before. The truest form of the endless summer. 'Heat waves all across the East Coast.' 'Massive heat waves just slamming our Eastern shores.' 'Is this truly The Endless Heat Wave?' 'Phew! Well I tell you, I believe in global warming now.' Idiots all of them. News anchors with plastic chemically induced smiles behind their desk that holds the brand. MADE IN CHINA. Just like their air conditioners. No, my mistake. Those are in Japan. I look at my palms. Sweat covered. My face in the TV's reflection. Red. My body so lethargic that I can only blame the sun's rays for stealing my energy. My phone buzzes in my swea

The two of you arrive and I'm really only happy to see you. "What did you have to do to convince him to come?" I ask smirking handing you a cigarette. You smile but it's very small and seems to be forced. I then hate him even more. He holds a beer can in his hand but I don't see him drink. He poses a lot. I wonder who he really is. Has he revealed himself to you, I wonder. Does he wear his heart on his sleeve when it's just the two of you and then tear it off when others are around? Twould make sense. "Cool stars." I say trying to change the subject. You look up and laugh at me. The trees are blocking most of the sky. The only light is of

The sun hot on my chest. The breeze burning on my face. The wood of the dock under my feet. I take a deep breath of summer and listen to the chatter of my friends behind me. I jogged up to the end of the dock leaving them yards behind me. The water below me was a deep blue. Dark like the night time sky had contaminated it. I hopped up onto the dock railing and held onto the lamp post beside me. The little lake was what we called "The Hole" it was enclosed by the comforting shade of willow trees and not many came out here anymore. The water surprisingly was not filthy. It was beautiful. "You gunna jump?" called out the deep voice of one of my

Dear Annabelle, I'm glad I get to write this. You see I've been wanting to write you a letter for a long time. It seems putting my words on something tangible is easier then actually speaking. I just needed a little push. You can thank my fellow online writers for this. I met you long ago. When Johnny and I were the rulers of Catholic grade school. Back when girls had cooties. You didn't have cooties though. You were different. I didn't chase you away when you asked to play monster tag. I even let you be monster. Johnny was wary though but there was something about you. You were different. We grew out of grade school and I remember the day

Dear Johnny, I wonder how many moon cycles we've been through, or how many times the clock hands spun while we were together but all in all it's safe to say I've known you for a while. So there's a mutual trust between us. It was built on times spent on bicycles and jumping from rope swings in swimming holes. You know, that wholesome all american summer time fun. I remember our parents setting up play dates. Carpooling to school as young children with G.I. Joes. You likes them more then I did. I liked those rocket ships we played with at night. You know during backyard camp outs. Oh yes we've had the generic wholesome american dream kind o

I like to break into abandon buildings by myself. I like to go alone because you don't run the risk of having a panicky person tag along with you. I tried to bring someone once but he had too many jitters. We were trying to break into an old three story house. It was foreclosed, rotting foundation, scheduled for demolition. The demolition wasn't for another month or so. But the guy I brought, damn, you should have seen the fuck. Pale, sweating, trembling. "Hey man," he kept saying. "Hey man, maybe we should go. Hey man, this place is rotting. Hey man, what if they got cameras or alarms or some shit." I told him he could go home if he wanted.

"That's him." What a thing to say at a funeral, that's him. My head turned slowly like in a western movie. The kind I used to watch with Paul. I'm pretty sure I was throwing razor sharp daggers with my green eyes but I'm never quite sure of these things. It would have been effective had the salt water not begun to well. Annabelle's soft hand caressed my shoulder and turned my head back to the coffin. It must have been hard for her to seem strong and comforting, I was a full head taller then her. "Don't listen to them." she whispered like a song. "They don't know anything." Oh, Annabelle, how is it that even at a funeral you give me reaso