When a monster calls 

My hope for his survival hid behind my knowing of his death like a knight shielded behind a Great Wall. Clutching his truth like the shiny sword that he carried for the battle. Gripped tightly like the cold steel doorknob on his hospital door. The stench of death on the battlefield. And the war almost over. He lay there defeated. And I stand over him. All hope lost for my soon to be fallen comrad. My dad. My pop. Later he would be no longer be and I, the would be knight would quiver behind the Great Wall. Protected only by the thought that the war has finished. And the suffering be over. For him. 


She was art…

She was art. And not the cliche paintings on a canvas. She was blues, funk and disco. She had a rhythm about her and each time our eyes met me would dance her dance.She was art. Musical and rhythmic. 

I am her

A rhythm so smooth a beat so perfect. The right tempo, the right flow. The sweetest melody I had ever heard. Her heart played a song so sweet. A song so angelic. I lay my head on her chest. And the beats play the song of her very existence. As I press against her, it speeds up with anticipation and excitement. I kiss her lips and with no lyrics at all that sweet love song is everything I want to hear. My heart follows and in sync they mimic one another. I am her.