And fourty two cents

I spoke to someone about the Powerball Jackpot
He flirted with me
as I mixed sugar into my tea.

We talked about winning the money
and spending some time on a sunny island
drinking margaritas...swimsuits optional.

But all I want
is a normal life
with someone who comes home to me
and wraps his arms around me
even if it means
I have only fifty-seven dollars in my checking account

The Thing About Sucking

Sometimes you can get so angry at yourself, like I am right now, that you just don't know what to do.

It may not be warranted or justified, but that doesn't matter. You see something, a fault, a problem, a simple lack of something, or in my case you just outright suck at something and blow it. It just makes me so angry and sad at the same time, I don't know what to do with it. I try to get past it, but then i just think about it again, 10 mins, an hour, 2 hours later, and have that whole wave of nauseau roll over me again.

As it was happening, it was just terrible. Now that it's over, I need to let it go. Or at least pretend I do.

And I will. Pretend, I mean.

I'm not normally the crying type (ok, maybe i kind of am, but it's not nationally known), but I just wanted, no want to cry.

Maybe this will help
or maybe not.

God, I hate it when i suck.

Hold 'Em

You place your bet
your universe set
On the flick of a wrist
You check your hand
breath is caught
As you wait to see
What deal is thrown.
Will fate be gentle?
Will the gamble pay off?
Time will tell
The waiting's hell
One card
Two cards
Three
Then the turn
Suspense is high
You're afraid to look
down the river
Into a straight
Time stands still
The gamble's thrill

Secret admirer

I know that I will lose you someday.

It tears me to pieces just thinking about what that will be like. To wake up one day and know that I won't ever see you, or talk to you again. Steely fingers clench around my heart, because I know that day will come, because you're not mine. Your past, your future, your dreams, are all shared with someone else.

I'm on the outer edges of your life right now, wearing the mask of a friend(even in your sight...) but there will come a day when we will be tugged apart, and I won't be able to orbit you anymore. How I dread that unavoidable future.

The gaping hole in my life will return, and I will feel all the more alone, because I'll remember what it was like when I at least had a little bit of you.

I'll miss you.

Ab Initio

Gripping the knife firmly, she rose up behind him.

Quietly and carefully, she took in her surroundings and tried to clear the fog in her head. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkened room, and she could make out the overturned chair in the corner, along with the bloody ropes on the floor, and at least one of her shoes. A few random blotches on the floor seemed to be pieces of paper, or maybe they were the contracts. I will burn those, she thought absently, assuming she could get her hands on them.

There was no mistaking the hulking figure right in front of her, however. And she didn't have to see her son to know that he was right there too, cowering in front of this evil apparition.

Blood still ran from her nose, and her arms were slick with sweat and dirt and tears. Her hands quickly tensed into fists, one of them gripping the knife tightly by her leg, as adrenaline began flowing through her system in waves.

Boring holes into the middle of his back, she silently drew back and pushed forward with all the momentum she could muster. The sharp-edged knife plunged easily, deeply into his back and didn't stop until it went all the way up to the handle. He turned around awkwardly and dropped to his knees as the knife pierced his heart.

A pistol fell from his hand to the ground with a loud clackety-clack. Eyes wide, he mouthed words, vaguely sounding like profanities, as he continued his agonizingly slow trip forward.

"Die you son of a bitch, die!" she heard herself scream at him, even as she instinctively stepped backwards, one hand reaching out to feel for the wall.

But this was no movie and there was no last gasp, no last evil rush of strength.

He hit the floor with a weighty thud.

The small, crying child raced around the prone body and into the arms of his mother. Weeping, Luka picked him up and carried him down the dark hall, out the front door and onto the sidewalk, where they both collapsed in sobs and screams that echoed in the night. A short distance away, sirens screamed through intersection after intersection, until they finally stopped just short of #2744 Bronson Rd.