The reasons why we close the eyes of the dead.

“Closure is important”, he said. As the people he loved slowly became images on a screen. Their faces in every song, their voices in every crowd, his fault in any case…
He’d been left holding the bag again. “Perhaps my heart will be in there this time?”, he thought… He’d have to sort through all this other shit first…
He had waited until the car rolled to a stop to reveal the tank was empty.
“It’s all in the difference between lies and the lack of truth”, he said as he closed his eyes.


The monster at the end of this life.

His words (not unlike a fractal), when examined closely, reveal more of the same.
She hides behind the cover of her heavy blanket (like it’s bullet proof). All the while lying there unaware, his words have hollow points.
If he’d only learned long ago, to keep his heart, soul, and guts in their respective cages.
For those who think they don’t want or deserve love, should realize it is not up to them, and it never will be.

Meaningful means, for meaningless ends.

Not the wrong dreams to wake from. But the wrong actors portraying his fears, hopes, and promises.

Forever a director, cursed by the choice to allow his subconscious make casting decisions… He was becoming quite tired of feeling every one of their emotions, and so very few of his own.

He knew who they all were and was sensitive to all of their needs, it’s just none of them were him… In such a rush to achieve peace, that he would cause chaos.

On the corner of selfish & empathetic was an impossible place to be, and he bought the whole lot.

Affordable housing, down on memory lane.

He suddenly remembered trying to sell his soul on eBay way back in ninety nine, then he recalled no one bid.

He inhaled his smoke in deep, sighing as he exhaled. He was consistently left (he thought). “Sometimes your destiny just sucks” (he said out loud)… Right then, he decided to take comfort in knowing exactly what he did not want. Along with far off, distant thoughts of figuring out the flip-side, much later.

The way he saw it was split, like records in a divorce… He hoped he would come face to face with what was inevitably the end, and simply nod. But he was only ever any good at lying to himself… As he often would when loathing himself, he drifted off and looked up. He noticed a bird flying through the air as a strong wind was blowing, it looked like slow motion (he thought), “I wonder if they get impatient” (he said out loud).