Boris view of the underworld

 Eric held hands with the low cloud out on his front lawn. A ritual done far after his passing. His ghosts light glow led the birds to swoop and perch acceptingly nearby.
His hand dragged against that cloud, stubborn brushy white hanging down like old man's beard from hemi matenga.
His other hand touching the more subtle whisps, a low whistle came from the old pursed lips as he edged forward trying to get a better view of the thing all call God.
"Bang" His soul exploded across the lawn, a passing ray of sun lit the scene up as divine. The fragments of him rose and collected into a large droplet liquid like.
Then flattened into a sheet expanded over the lawn where I the robust cat Boris would play in the sun.

Eric is floating down seddon street touching the light patchy drizzle and often recoiling. Now crawling on it's corners down to the local RSA. A giant cloak of a spirit.
The old times he spent with warbuddies filling up ashtrays and emptying longnecks. Animal loudmouths rivaled by smooth periods of boredom and predictable "Remember the times" Boris points DID YOU TRANSCEND THE BULLSHIT, you old redskinned father of mine.

Ambling down here onto Elizabeth street petrifying the midnight teen half drunk back home from partying. Almost in his old form then back into the invisible blanket. As day and night and time interfere with your senses. He floated over the tin roof through all the confusion covering the building as if to own it. To reclaim thise little moments lost in the past.
He covered it all and the sky shot blue all of a sudden and the night fled like a cowardly child.
He hung above it all there.

The old poems he'd once recited that hid and reminded of old loves, ways things were and could be. The saint Luke's church rocked and shuddered like a gravestone being robbed.
The moss fell off in clumps, he cried out to be put into a body again.
Elizabeth street suddenly narrowed, and he could see me up in the hill somewhat obscured by the scrappy last remains of native forests as I crawled my way down, where it was still night time, and awesome blues on his side.

His soul ballooned and took the shape of an old rusty school bus, driving across the railway lines, the hidden boundary, the transcendent between an older more forgotten piece of waikanae and an absolutely ridiculous attempt at a modern present. Boutique taste of hobbits.

He got stuck between a real estate office and the corner petrol station to Ngaio road. The bus froze into a block of ice and dawn was called over the buses barely audible radio.
It froze into a giant ice block and took up a huge space.
My purring self wasn't far away, the old naiivety falling from me like furr during the molting seasons  reinventing time hair by hair second by second on walks home.

I treaded carefully to the railway lines and found him there. I looked on like one might look on a holy shrine, yet the flickering spirit that kept me breathing in the dark now surged forth, only interested in hunger.
Hunger to devour the future and devour the past.
Crossing the railway lines the smile automatic shot across my mouth like an insant opiate.
I could see the countless past lives emanating off the ice of the old man.
How many were contained inside of me, just the the nine?- WILL YOU ANSWER THAT QUESTION?
Sunrise almost at it's Apex, then disappeared, God bored again. I licked my wrist as darkness slowly got the upper hand, are we going backwards?
The twilight of worlds or converging purgatories?
Silence and night captured the land again in an instant this time.I imagined a hawk on hare a shock to the system. My soul bounced in witness to a million deaths dragged up a spinning vortex a million tones of red. I held the low mist alas no consolation, what a familiar nightmare. I couldn't tell if In my cat body was observing the experience from eyes or eating it between my fangs.

Each mouthful of an endless meal.
Then a flash another thunder clap, it just turned midday.
Eric bathed in an afternoon sun, melting away those tonnes of ice. Sun a february had once saved, as if mocking us, Time was obviously speking to us in every tense.
Eric started to laugh now from secrets that had distilled into jokes over decades gone.
Such guffawing that the road between us opened up creating a fissure in the tarmac. I crawled inside like a moth into a shed.

Inside the ground I could see living rivers of the past, many scenes as if on a glistening screen. Decades of peace and silence flowing through the reflection of many timelines. The walls of the rock inside full of eyes, mineral rock and discarded treasures. The shame and pride of many in those hoarded once coveted material absurdities.

I surfaced naked furrless embracing a cool night air this time it seemed I could harness it, it would not escape into day again. The city lights confused and perturbed the way they should be, said the predator in me. Instead of the feline pelage there was a sleek layer of transparent underskin.
I left the abandoned highway few cars ever travel on anymore. It didn't matter I was invisible.
I slipped into houses observing the people and their strange habits, little decorated neighborhoods, self important. yet predictable.

I looked up close at their faces checking their frowns and smiles. Not true smiles, not gratitude at the little piece of paradise they've been given, just little peice of peep over the hedge for validation.
Smiles that were fragile, smiles dressed in will you like me?
Reading the muscles in their cheeks and necks looking deep in them.
The colors of their hearts the unfortunate forgery of emotion. 

I heard the old Eric yelling and cackling "Just lucky you are a cat".

Gene hackman

 A barrel of a bad guy
some lieutenant of a cartel or crooked cop
holding a submachine gun
an excuse to piss himself laughing

A character faces a gruesome death
He was the quintessential villian
The concerned look position questioning
Suddenly nonchalant and unconvinced yes that kind of bird

the back of his mind a million files
reading back into his eyes
showing a few of those nice tricks that take the masses in
he'd seen before effort keep the smirk from appearing

Gene the serious giving the precise instructions
making sure you knew it was your life you were forfeiting
It's a shot gun blast in an instants decision
lifting the arms and blowing the body back

a moustasche through those funky decades
the hippy turned to scotch
enemy of the state
mastermind of humanity's end

what will we do?  who do we go to?

 without you.

You the shilling

 Look at yourself the roundness
the lines etched aroung the circumference
we echange ourselves too often 
its dizzying

And into the slot you fall and the lights come on
Face is royal you echo the sovereign
tears wouldn't rust it
left somewhere under the playground swing

from the distracted falling
hitting the soft bark flicking a piece up
just to conceal it enough
until the hunger of one finds a glint

sunlit day optimistic pauper
greasy hands permanent grin
not broken or even shaken
picking you up thumb and forefinger

to spend you on candy
to keep those hands greasy
and the energetic body that must nose
curiosity such a power

and sticky you fall again
into the cash register
to be collected with the rest of the change
clanging loudly as you silently endure the journey

A novelty crop

 Together again after a good few years.
"So what to do you think about the farm Simon" Mike asked.
"It's well organized" Simon replied
His hands separating space inside the pot, for the rooted pineapple to fit into.
"Just another million to go."
"Well if you need any help just let me know."
"Cheers" Simon finished with.

Boss trudged in, in his gumboots neutral beardless sixty year old face.
"How are you getting on?"
"I am almost done with this lot, do you know where I can get the next ones?"
He pointed to the other side of the outdoor potting shed.
"Go over there, Ellie will help you out."

"So pineapples in Ireland aye"  
"Yeah apparently it's nothing knew"
"What do you mean?" Simon asked
"Well centuries ago the pineapple was like a status symbol. So they erected glass houses so they could cultivate them"

Simon pointed up to the sky with was a creamy cold grey.
"You wouldn't be able to get them to survive these winters."
The boss nodded and left.
Scooping out the soil Simon continued to transplant the pineapples pups to bigger pots.
Placing them on the wooden pallet.

"EEEEEEE kaplooooorrrrrr."
Simon turned to see Mike's grinning face in the tractor.
He'd come to pick up the pallet. He was doing one of his bizarre sound effects.
He raised the pallet, spun the tractor and drove it to the tunnel house and lay it inside.

The thick cake like mud made deep impressions around the gumboot footsteps as Simon went to request another hundred young plants.
"What's that you need more? already?"
Simon attempted to retain his need for sarcasm.
Ellie could almost see it. 
"Yeah, I can probably get another 100 done before day's end."

"Ill bring the next ones over soon, get the hose and start watering in the ones ya done.
Don't pay your friend Mike any mind, He's always acting the maggot around here."
"Ellie why do people want to grow tropical things in zones that are not tropical, isn't that just bonkers?"
"No I'd say it was the very meaning of life." Ellie being cryptic.
"What do you mean by that?" 
"Well everyone wants something they can't have. Heat in winter, cool in summer. Anything you lack drives you mad."

"Pineapples are just another attempt to glorify."
Ellie ignored my comment. "I've been working here for forty years and every year they bring in something new. Last year it was Feijoas"
"Will I also work here with my friend Mike long?"
"A good few years, we usually shut for winter. But you and Mike are hobbyists. Too focused on life to worry about the plants that died."
Ignorant gardeners? Is that what were?

We went to the break room reddish brown wooden floor catching an illusive sun ray. Long curtains like huge dragnets catching the dust of the room. The four of us slurped weak milk coffee to the beat of some nineties radio station. you could almost predict the song before it played. I looked at the ceiling and praised the empty space of the room above, as the mess among us would only please a hoarder.

From camp to field

 Yaqub was 19, humble honest and non judgemental.
His parents had sent him to an Islamic militant' s camp.
Where he would be trained for the conflicts near Yemen, Jordan and new fighting breaking out in Egypt.
He spent the day sprinting and jumping. Paintball skirmishes and firearms training with live ammunition.

His Parents perished in a bomb blast in downtown Damasco. Accelerating his extremist beliefs.
After 13 months in training he shot his commanding officer and took over the compound with some of the other cadets. imprisoning any of them that didn't show enthusiasm in joining them.

They took off to the front to join the exact group that bombed his parent's house killing them. They were told to fall in under one of the Isis's existing commanders. They ignored. They took orders but kept themselves separate. Their little victories were starting to get attention.

Seventeen young men highly disciplined but still immature. reckless. Took food and weapons from the main group. Who would sit them down and show them where to go on the map.
Then start a huge fight over the fact Yaqub wouldn't give up his position as a squad leader.
Of course his followers backed him up, believing Yaqub was the only leader they could have.
The isis command didn't want to lose it's groups of colaborators and Yaqub's group wasn't the only successful one, most of the army was formed from little clans.

Yaqub's group went to ground for the night in Mazzeh to attack the airport the very next day.
They were under fire from mortars and heavy machine gun, that fired from a kilometer off, but still reached the low walls and hedges they were hding among.
Yaqub ordered the group to move in a crouching position toward the airport.  Some were holding their kevlar vests stolen from prior battles to their faces, the odd bullet landed in the middle of them.

They heard voices ahead, Yaqubs second in command Abdel went slithering through low but thick grass with one other to check it out. It was another company aligned with theirs. They identified themselves awkwardly finding half the company injured by the machine guns up ahead.
They called Yaqub and the group up, the machine guns ahead had  temporarily desisted.
"Abdel take the wounded to cover, we will go on to capture these guns ahead"
The commanding officer of the group they were helping protested. "We will stay here, you don't need to look after us. We will not be following you."
Yaqub looked at the men from the other company, who seemed relieved that they had turned up. 

He unholstered his pistol and shot the other officer in the head. 
"Abdel is your new commanding officer" You will follow him or die here with your camel turd officer."
Yaqub didn't look back and led all of the men still standing through a drainage ditch.
The five men manning a machine gun nest and assault vehicle knew they were being hunted, so they took off sprinting.
Two were downed in the ensuing barrage from Yaqub's men.

Yaqub instructed the mainforce to come in and occupy. 
The two groups of soldiers loaded the guns and supplies the enemy had left into the ferret vehicle. A fight broke out between the new members of Yaqub's group.
It was settled one on one. Yaqub's guy lost the fist fight. He went over to the man lifted him up and told him to accept defeat. The man spat on the ground. 
Without hesitation Yaqub hit him in the nose with the butt of an Ak he pulled off another soldier.
"There will be no distinction in the group, except for enemy kills."
The man slowly rose "Fuck you Yaqub I've served you for many months and it means nothing to you."
Yaqub turned the gun on him, looking at him openly.
"Do you really want to die?"
The man started sobbing, Yaqub approached him close put the barrel against his chest and let one round burst right through him. The man almost uttered a sorry before his body fell flat on the ground.

Some of the man's friends gasped appalled. 
The group took the vehicle and a trailer with the wounded to a small abandoned compound outside the city limits, were Yaqub was hoarding weapons ammo and spoils of war.
He imagined this warfare he had conducted would continue for many years. 
It almost broke his hardened heart to learn, the dictator Bashar Al Asad had left for Russia.
But war! War would never cease in these lands, it naturally sprang up like destructive geysers.

A plastic Hoplite

 The best we can expect
Is not to be given the thing we crave
The thing that makes a head spin for desire
That's the thing you need to lose

For when you get it
self congratulations and other sure lies
don't add anything to your road or garden
just a big bright burst of distraction

convinced it's pleasure
break it up and dillute it
try to make it last longer
violating the limits

Look at the plastic figurines
Move me with your hands
No life in us
yet your imagination

Puts frowns on our mouths
hides fangs hark whole
Makes the land go dim 
Retrieves the treasure one army stole

Best you can expect manipulate a few lost souls
we've got a river teeming with them
throw a net and bring them in
choosing the few to grow on

gobble the rest fodder
in the process of playing god
shaping the key to the next dimension's
living hidden door

Lucky for you it's doesn't unlock
claim it is a defect or design flaw
It's a liter of destiny you can't swallow
each swig  cheap and shallow

The best you can expect is to play with toy soldiers
I stand in line for you as an unshapen god
move us into position invent a lore
verily commence invisible war

Lucky for you it's not enchanted
No butterfly effect to these musings
No far off conflict conjured
on behalf of this pretend

Yet outside eyes witness
vein themselves onto each sentiment
each chapter in your story
each violent outcome

Unseen eyes light up
live in your words
and movement of figurines
I seem to gain a soul and purpose

Kettle top

 Through the dim yellow light with our picks and shovels. Equipment to help us hold up and stabilize the cave. It was often a fight between the aggressive among us to who owned what.
Reminding us of old gold miners fighting over a tiny nugget.
Dust kicks up at my pick strike a few more centimeters deeper. Unconvering an ancient ocean fossil.
We stopped for a break, was it friday optimism or were we getting close to discovering what was inside the pit.

The specialist woman, twenty six year old Charlotte told the story.
"In the past much of this area we are standing on belonged to the Cretaceous era, we are hoping to find the remains of any marine animal, it's not just a pay day. For those of you working for the university you will suddenly have new credentials, your names will have weight."
 All of us hung on her words.

As we went back to digging with a fresh sense curiosity.
A guilty tickets for the lottery feeling.
That day we found nothing.
Leaving the site at 16pm as the sun was setting passing all of the attempts to dress the city in something it was not. The north such a piece of perfection unto itself. A reason suicide was popular, if not the lack of vitamin D?

How can a sense of humor and boasting merge to be the socal proof of a man. Looking at the hired help, all unquestioning sports fanatics in their late twenties. Shit kickers who didn't care about reaching the find, simply there for their hourly rate or piece work.
"I can drink three bottles of whiskey." One said.
"I had to fight five men at once." Another.
It was like they were talking themselves up so they might survive a quiet evening at the local tavern.
I wouldn't join the crew at the bar on that weekend. I couldn't face the lonliness of my small thirty five meter apartment in Kiruna, I rode back down to the site and spent the afternoon and early night digging there. 

Yellow lantern light lighting up this part of the cave, resembling an old shed with hardened clay floors.
Each pick blast hardly scratching the surface. My body shuddering.
I head back home before ten as a few of the other diggers were leaving the local tavern.
"You've been digging again, you crazy old man!" They could see the gear I was carrying.
I never replied. The universe is different for the silent, for they just observe and let conclusions mature over time. Absent from the response. overtime the ear picks up small but audible tones of fear in their last syllables.

The one they called the gardener always boasting. The Broms, exquisite twins both with symmetrical beauty and sharp wits.
I got to the job again on monday unpacking my gear on the floor, the three of them approached me.
"what were you doing on saturday night? Did you really go to the dig by yourself?"
"Yeah I just want to make some progress so we can start studying this thing" The low volume of my voice had them lean in further, my tone was cordial yet assertive.

The gardener pointed to where I'd been working. "He's reached the top of the fossil, might have to bring in the pointing trowels." He said making my small progress into an opportunity to project his self loving charisma, he spoke as if teasing himself. Do they learn this from their fathers?

The broms twins Lynn and Leah congratulated me and dished out coffee to all of us. The rest of the team would be here soon, so making a little more progress deeper together would hide the fact I didn't have a life.
By the end of the day it was obvious we were dealing with a crustacean identified and estimated to have lived ten million years in the Miocene, I was ecstatic. The gardener didn't look very impressed though.
with the exception of the twins their faces bitter as if losing a competition.

Gardener's accusing tone lost all charisma."All this work for some old crab not ten million years old, I thought you said this area was from the cretaceous." Charlotte said nothing. 
The hired hands and I continued digging, the twins went to get renkott for an early dinner, Charlotte joined them. When they got back the hired hands were gone. It was just me.
I looked up smiling despite my stinging wrists and exhausted arms.
They asked in an accusatory tone "The dig is only ten million years old, why are you so happy?"
"This is everyones first dig is it not?" I questioned.
The girls admitted with anticipation.
"Why do you want to suddenly have the best dig on your first attempt?"
"Well so we can make names for ourselves." Charlotte said bluntly.

Something stirred in the twins, Lynn spoke up "You mean it's a good start."
I said nothing, ate my last mouthfull of reindeer meat and left.
My bicycle tyres appreciated the flat smooth roads of Kiruna. Life was sometimes like that.
A handful of grateful people might stop to observe and then delight such a reprieve from the rollercoaster life often is.

On my way home I got to the greatest gift of all, Kebnekaise the first light sprinklings of snow atop it.
I called it "The couple" because of the two separate peaks.
Darkness calmed me, I forgot the disappointment of this beautiful view disappearing.
Back to the small apartment to sleep off the compacted exhaustion.

The next morning I arrived, the twins had arrived before me. Looking dismayed.
Leah gave me the bad news
"Charlotte and gardener have left to go work on another dig."
"They've officially signed off." Lynn added.
"Is this dig ours then?" I asked.
They nodded. 
"Any cowboys to dig out the periphery?"
"Yeah, but we are thinking of leaving too." Almost simultaneous.
"Lets give it two days, Charlotte and Gardener will spend a week just setting up again." I used all my force to convince them.
Reluctantly the twins got to work as the few remaining hired hands began to arrive.
The work became more and more tedious the closer we got to the remains.
I knew the twins would blame me for wasting their time on a mediocre dig.
I decided to spare them and called the heritage board that afternoon to check the dig the following day.

I met the official early before the twins could arrive that wednesday morning.
Brush and trough in his hands, eyepiece attached to his head.
"So this is crustacean, dating back to the Miocene?" The official tagged.
I nodded.
He got down on one knee and instructed me to crouch as well. we started brushing together. The twins came in bemused.
"What is going on?" Lynn asked
"We are analyzing the dig." I answered as the official kept brushing and adjusting his eye piece.
He brushed continuously for a good 30 minutes.

Stood up, adjusted his pants, took off his eye piece, laid down the brush and affirmed, "This find is not rare neither is it so ancient. However it is in incredible condition, this cave has provided protection. The museum will offer a high reward for this. You will be recieving commendations for this."

The twins beamed with excitement. 

"Shall we inform Charlotte and Gardener?" I tested, in my quiet voice.

 

 

On the table

 The waves of pain increase the brow temperature
The heart raged foreign and peturbed
Incompatible unrecognized
the familiar space within the atria

Now a distorted shelter
where a young man would hide
in every intoxication to glean tolerance 
to an abrasive world

Waves of pain making it hotter in here
Bizarre Jester picture show has hijacked my eyes
I used to talk my way out these things now just cackles
crows skin under the feather rubbing and corrupting

The furious blades moving at the speed of light
To carve me shape me into something semiliving
then display me falling on my own broken bones
Infront of these human versions of success 

who stand passports ready
As I lay soiled and yet not buried
shooting into some outer dimension
where sense has been tainted

Could our great host interrupt the unnecessary failure here
The severity of this strange tunnel of suffering

distortions conspire each a kitchen waiter
towel folded on arm serving insanity
insisting in mixed tones that abruptly contrasted
until I black out and see those approval seeking faces

burning and cutting pushes me to lose my breath
voices echo eyelids open in hope yet nothing exists

even closer even more helpful looking
then losing their feathers once again
posing their crows skin the current trend
Other tables applaud

It's not a hospital anymore
It's a restaurant I'm tray bound
I've been served onto the table
therefore mercy won't be more than a glaze

waves of pain return unbearable heat
Tension flurries zero relief
echoing through my skeleton
pressurizing my organs

Confusion she said was the opposite
The lost child whose ghost could utter at dusk 
to mention abandoned in church of falling dust
then fading for neither light nor dark had claimed her

She would not anesthetize those waves of pain
Merely waking dream silent distraction from the insane
The excrutiating orchestra playing life is finished
through the perfect then grimly diminished

Oh feed that scar

 You've let me slither into this world
were there sentries or guards is it shock?
Did you leave these sacred doors unlocked
Was it I who was truly supposed to breach

Or another creature more destructive
more camoflage over me as tomb
moonlight waking the womb
day break and birth

A serpent infiltrating the farm
hunger is a language aromatic fresh
Deep through veins muscle and flesh
arteries have a job to flow like me

The night covers my tracks
you've let me through
No one forced you into
graceful invitation

Damp from storms
leaping on rooftiles
like giant reptiles
that once existed

Here I stand in the middle
pretending you have a goal or end
I arrived and the gate was open
carelessness milk

flight was sullen yet delicious
gravity left for a moment
love deepened and the distant storms
applauded

Mocking the future

Tropical dell sunlight enters talks to the leaves
wind has been stolen by winged theives
The hobbyists crowd around the overgrown crypt
asking the guide between appropriate sips

all of us and our curious words eagerly
blitzed by the heat worshipping it secretly
taking on a big cup of strong coffee to stand us up for the day
get to the bottom an insect crawls out of the last mouthful bay

Forest vapor and the myriad of noises
seek our senses an unknown foe
Those thousands of years ago
when these hills were beaches

life under a million roots to teach us
A crypt with runes in ancient sarcasm
Historians fantasies sledge hammer orgasm
the humidity contributes giddy balmy morning

branches stir migrating animals in undergrowth
Predators and parasites follow closely to host
Prey is what they have evolved into
Spreading predictably across the earth

to breed and be regularly eaten
bones the forest floor rots for seed
canopy shading the crypt despite the heat
Predator's quintessential reality

shade and stealth a creed
the prey a clumsy society

The fool that takes you in(The human mission)

 We sat on the long new white sofa.
In heaven with an older fool. In his living room with that ultra high ceiling. Other couples wandering about, counting their blessings.
Outside through the window we could see the field where other couples were playing some eternal game of hide and seek. 
Ships came and went every few centuries usually offloading more and more.
In the state we were in we seemed no better than farm animals.
Simple satisfactions, snacks and flattery replayed.

Was this the sandpaper to finish the job
Was this the world chiseling out our impurities.
Or shaping us into the mess the modern world had left us in, before we left their time.

The fool came out and served us tall bread with sugary coating.
He had it all, hundreds of loyal friends an expanding family and a certainty I wanted to get to the bottom of to verify truth.
I took my first bite and decided it was as airy and empty as the front room. Bathed in brightness.
But all that left my lips in word form were the casual pleasantries.

 Arousing no descernible suspicions. And so the game of this place continued. 
The cakes and promises, the cities outside that continued to rise on the millenia. Beautifying a reality already beautiful.

Yet why were we still animals?
obsessed with communicating niceties, feeding and amusing ourselves with the same tasteless airy atmosphere? Hadn't we ascended? If so, wouldn't we be obsessed with loftier and more meaningful ways of existing?

Is this the land people pay a tithing for?
Is this eternal bliss?
Glasses toast and the room is empty
Souls reunite in freshly painted living rooms, a heavenly white, reflecting the rays from some form of ethereal star.
"How much of the human mission did you complete" The fool pointed at me.
"Oh about half" I muttered, the room went silent. I was supposed to have lied. There was no recourse to expell me so they would just have to pretend I had met the quota, without even knowing what got me through the gates to begin with.

It's not a place of curiosity, it's a place of thick layered sweetness with just enough space between to prevent mold. Will we become the paint? Will we become the glow?

The ships that arrived and left frequently seemed grimey. Would I forfeit this wondrous place just to witness dirt and contrast.
 I had spent enough millenia in those blessed fields looking for treasures, or whatever it was our holiness preordained we hunt down. Occupying the decorated infinities and winding down the restless souls until they become like house furniture in these incredible towers.
Would I enjoy these aggressive tones of white light within the this heavenly lounge. The unfulfilled need for glowing peace, eons of cake and compliments.

"How much of the human mission did you complete?" The question is like the dull authoritative brandname on the safe that guards my old dead human heart. It wasn't positioned as an inquisition. But an opportunity to glorify myself among the gathered human journeyed souls partaking in these decade long afternoon tea parties.

The fool took me aside his concerned tone failed to waken caution.
"What is your question? You are restless among us. Do you need some kind of answer to find peace here?" He offered the question openly and warmly.

"What is hell like?" I asked.

Rosalind's brow

 Rosalind brought her family to the lodge next to the beach. One of the expectations was everyone would be happy. As most look to the mother to provide some sort of stimulation. Children in their adulthood as dependent as caged wingless birds. Waiting on feed and water.
The day started well and they almost got out the door to get the beach for the afternoon.
Drizzle set in just before lunchtime when the family's youngest daughter was waking.
Father commented to the rest of the family. "what is she still doing in bed?"
The silence condemned him. As the question repeated inside their town house several times a week. Becoming an abrasive annoyance. The son with his girlfriend would shrug.
An incredibly useless attempt at correcting her behaviour.
mother Rosalind had no comment at all, as if the subject itself was foreign.

Over carbohydrated on a another hangover, a few well directed puns, redundant questions and out the door they all clambered. Not ten meters out the drizzle predicted on the weather forecast they didn't bother reading had started. Groans of protest as if God himself was floating beside them to take on their complaints. "I guess we'll just have to go back."
"I'm not going in this crap, It's probably going to get worse anyway." Rosalind snarled.
The youngest daughter grinned took out her cellphone and got onto the serious business of watching short videos of accidents, bad taste jokes, pseudo science and curiosities that had absolutely no practical value for her life.

The clouds did set in, apathetic tones of light and dark grey copulating softly to produce a drizzle that wasn't strong enough to be rain.
They piled back into the little lodge room they were renting. Chose their corners and hibernated into their cellphone scrolling. The humidity and unwashed clothes had conjured a suspicious aroma, the odd burst of cigarette smoke distraced them from.
The mother made herself busy, washing the late brunch dishes, mopping the floor in a way that would you have convinced she'd majored in university at it.

The whinging didn't start until mid afternoon where the anxious mother had positioned the events of the day as a cause of her husband's lack of organization. The truth was she was as happy to not have left as much as the youngest daughter, and later when the drinking would start she would have more energy she had thought.
Self deception and intentionally creating an unnecessary conflict itself was like an early cocktail and novella. Offering the necessary self vindication, family drama and histrionics of an aspiring martyr.
Which to her luck wouldn't exact a beating or even a shouting match, but rather elaborate mocking that her husband poured on carefully, as if preparing a cake.

This would arouse mild amusement from the young couple and the daughter, who would chuckle contentedly.
Often this cut Rosalind through. It ruined her attempt at being the virtuous higher authority sent by some divine angel to open their hearts and mind. Success in the father wasn't discipline, focus or any conventional qualities. He could use words to strip one man naked exposing everything including things he wasn't even aware of. And in the same mouthful of words bring to life his greatest qualities. 

The clouds broke and a thin blue strip began to form and expand.
So the family collected all of their sun umbrellas and other such gear, to take off to the beach.
The click of the beer can and subtle fizz that erupted almost declared permission that all could relax and enjoy themselves. The unbearable southern January sun bore down on them forcing beads of sweat across shoulders and faces.
The puns came in pairs and then triples, sarcastic laughter casually burst out on the more obvious directed double meanings.
On the sand they all settled down. the sky cooperated, the tight mouth of Rosalind loosened to give concessions to the weather, the sand and the sea.

And in that moment the clumsy messy morning of heavy indifference and lethargy completely subsided, smiling became automatic. every organ slacked, every vein eased. 
Rosalind's pinched brow released completely. Luck or illusive happiness had chosen them, as if looking for it was absurd or impossible.

Chancellery

 These long dark halls
extensions of what history attempts to provide us
Decorated railings staircases to shadows
Huge empty spaces

inviting with their echoes
Numbing with their silence
Formal with their patterns
built for events and legal matters

Like a hollow adolescent
willing to be possessed 
by an eldritch entity
Stale air, it's bad breath

One may marvel at the years it took
To erect such a token of architecture
Yet even the simple pedestrian may comment if caught
He gives such an enigmatic place no second thought

Heart in space

 The box in my heart is vibrating
small square dark box
cellphone alarm
unwelcome emotions

Still not on earth
somewhere hovering in space
a few million kilometers from the solar system
Purposefully satisfyingly lost

Back on earth
the heart is subject to gravity
and serious illusions
so just let it float

Every limit provided false comfort
The heart may not be bound

Leadership is fun

 I followed Putin up the stairs
we walked past the feast
And up to the formal government videogames
waiters and security guards dance frantically

Presidents show their human frailties
in disgusting obvious shows of  hopelessness
Mere children competing for attention
In great dim halls of written histories

blacklisting and smearing
boycotting and feeding the sludgegulpers
every piece of fabricated filth
through threads and tubes and audiofiles

A pauper's excuse

 Lu Yi and I were approached the expansive delta, we had no way of knowing the depth of the water.
After a brief arguement. We thought it would be better to take off our boots and try to make it across with our pants rolled up. 
Wading into the delta the underwater vegetation cushioning our feet. The current quite strong in some parts. We could see little flecks of houses in the distance it was the city. I looked back at Lu yi's worried face.
"Lets go back, it looks like it might rain."
I'd never seen her so worried before, back in our hometown she seemed the most courageous of any of the girls. Now she was in an all out state of panic.
I walked her back to the water's edge.
"Do you want me to come back here and get you in about a week?"
she stirred "I think it's just better for me to go back home."
"Well you know what to expect I guess, same controlling people, our families can barely afford to feed us."

The consternation across her face was almost humorous to me, I was never able to appreciate caution.
"Come on, you heard Zhan's story about the opportunties and great wonders of the city."
She reluctantly caved for a second time. So we waded out, once again.
Perhaps we would have avoided calamity by not having hesitated for so long, hindsight is a psychological kick in the face.

The dark clouds had really accumulated, the sky began spitting, timely Lu Yi began her "I told you sos".
After thirty kilometers of trudging endless rice paddies, it was like water over a ducks back. As I pictured the feathers of the ducks back amusingly, In that sudden tragic shock of a moment, a thick layered torrent swept us prostrate.
The first thing that went was my boots. I had no idea where Lu Yi had ended up.
An hour of being washed around in those waters. Onto a huge pile of debris and grass. I gripped the mess as the water slowly subsided.   

Exhausted, I walked toward the smoke in the sky, under great overgrown evergreens that used to part of some abandoned estate. Tall thick grass up to my chin, using a staff I'd fashioned out of a branch to beat my entry into the grasses incase of mangshan vipers that nested there.

Coming out on the other side, I spent the night in a park, under some pergola that offered just enough shelter from the random passing showers.
Morning a cloudy greyish yellow. I was barefoot, I had lost my bag, my money and I was filthy.
Hunger slowly set in.
I made my way down the street parallel to the park into a middle class neighbourhood that sprawled out for many kilometers.
Following the wider avenues I found my way into town.

I tried to ask for some food at a local convenience store. The storekeeper had laughed at me and told me to leave. I felt pathetic, but I thanked him for his time, as he stared at me cynically.
"If you steal anything, I'll catch you beat you and take you to the police station myself."
"I lost my money and belongings in the flood, yesterday" I replied trying to hold the bitterness back.
The storekeeper looked away, ignoring me.
A few kilometers down the road getting closer to the city center I smelt the delicious aroma of fried food.
I hid outside a restaurant behind a wooden fence and some shrubs. I knew begging wouldn't get me anywhere. I was at the back of the restaurant, I could see their trashcans, as much as I abhored the thought of scavenging here, it had already been 24 hours since my last meal.

The door flicked open and scruffy thirty year old man came loading scraps into the main bin.
I secretly thanked God and when the swing doors closed behind him, I made my way carefully to the bin.
It was full of the uneaten fried potato chips and pieces of meat and salad. I saw a whole uneaten piece of battered fried chicken. This was it, peel the batter off like a perect cover and eat the chicken inside.
Oh was it good? Incredibly! Until I got to near the bone and noticed it was almost raw. I threw it down and cursed at the same time as spitting the last mouthful out. It had been thrown out because it was undercooked. I was twenty nine years old but it seemed I had to learn every life lesson over again one by one. starting with listening to Lu Yi.

I got water from the tap next to the bins and cleaned myself up.
I was now semi clean and fed. Maybe I am doing something right.
I continued toward the city center. As the cloudy but still visible sunset was coming over the horizon I saw a good bridge to camp under for the night. 
A few dogs wandering around and on the otherside of the river the bridge crossed was a group of semi organized homeless.

I slept on a pile of rags in the protected area between the upright columns and sloping abutment of the bridge. I woke to see the redhaired crossbreed labrador licking the black mut with the white chest.
Neither of them perturbed by my presence.
They followed me as I walked onward toward where I thought the city center was. I'd get a job. I'd get somewhere to stay. I'd live here. I'd survive somehow. Where the hell is Lu Yi right now.
After being looked unapprovingly by the sidewalk commuters under the tall narrow buildings I came on what looked to be a corporate business park. With a big field and a mural made out of glistening steel in the middle, supposedly a seashell.

Build under the side of a small hill was a very trendy looking cafe. I went over partly out of necessity and partly out of curiosity.
"Am I far from the city center?" In the most honest sounding voice I could conjure.
"Yeah about 3 kilometers along the main road north west there." The owner seemed to have a look of understanding.
I nodded like I knew where he was talking about.
"Can I please use your toilet?"
"Yeah, it's a unisex straight ahead, those people you can see there are in line."
"ok"
There were three other people in the line, one dressed in old ragged clothes worse than me.
He had soiled himself and he stink of it was getting to the other two ahead of him, positioning themselves exactly toward the toilet door as if god would see and speedily rush the occupier out.
It wasn't to be, the occupier took 10 minutes. One of the men infront left the line furiously cursing and wadling like he'd been holding on.
A few minutes later Lu Yi came out of the door. I almost tried to hide in shame at the way I looked.
She caught me straight away. taking three purposeful paces and hugging me.
"What happened to you?"
"I lost everything in the flood and went looking for you." I lied, I had tried not to think about what could have happened to Lu Yi to not drive myself crazy.
"you look like a holocaust survivor ." Ashamed I changed the subject, noting she was tying on a uniform.
"Well looks like you survived. Are you working here?"
"Yeah pretty sweet, I got rescued from the river that runs through the city.
Mister Wang and his wife saw me in the water. They own the place."

Wow how some hit it lucky I thought, she didn't look like my sister anymore. No one I knew had such confidence and spark.
"Almost drowning certainly changes a person." Even the way she spoke didnt seem like her. However she did have a way of adapting.

After finally using the toilet and cleaning myself up a bit, I came out to the main seating area where a bowl of food was waiting for me and Mr Wang was talking to Lu Yi.
"So your the brother?"
"Yes sir"
"Well we can't offer you much here, I got pair of shoes here for you, Your sister says they are your size. And 100 yuan. You can come and visit anytime. But I can't offer you any more money."
"Thank you sir" I managed between slurping down the food. Secretly I collected the scraps in a napkin.

I Hugged Lu Yi realizing I was killing her gig and left. The red lab and black mut were both sitting waiting. I gave them the scraps I had taken from the restaurant and walked toward the city center with my new albeit used shoes and two companions.

 

Skidding a lifetime

 Inside this car
you can see the road passing
inside that wall analogue 
the time moving

along you go
over land on wheels
round the face of the clock
the speed dial moves

the steering wheel
navigates you around another year
no cause to press on the breaks
habitual circles

along you go
watching the ashphalt pass
inside your clockwork
speed dial oscillates

Unaware of the dizziness 
age brings on as time flies
hours you've touched
Car windows paint life

The impossible food

 Hello father I see you half way from the earth
Hello father the galaxy is a garage
God's in the walls somewhere
shining his lights around

You leaned in and whispered
"You are a coward and a bully"
I repeated the words
we tried not to laugh

It wasn't supposed to be serious
both of us knew we were sharing genes
Both of us knew we were connected
"You are a bully and a coward"

Those lists of mistakes
Came flowing over the screen
The walls rattled with laughter
before game over appeared

Father smirk not
Yet break yourself and others not down
For your challenge was balance
The impossible food

Mine acceptance
impossible to drink
the years have parched me father
me on earth you here in the galaxy

Balance is sweetly given
you enjoy eternities
before the game over appears
Wallowing in the lacking ingredient

never tiring of it
Back on earth I can't let much go
accepting very few things
An amateur climber here

A bully and a coward
Lost for words as we interact
that certainty all yours
that doubt stuck on me like impossible food

repentence simultaneous
we speak with one mouth only
Hear but don't listen
act uncouthly

Estuary parent

 Tide comes in and tide goes out
These natural pools it leaves
are for swimming and leisure
surgence of life

The makes the dark muddy sand yellowish
a golden glare that frames these memories
for a future that wants to look back
that wants to wade into the calm warm pools

separation of the decades
separation of each pool
Golden stillness
baby squid sped through the clear meter deep pool

Children waited for lost parents
Beach towels and picnic baskets empty
A wanting ignored and replaced
by a simple hidden estuary beach

Teaching during the floods

 Are you teaching the way you should
Get to school in time
look the part
exert authority

Float on the rivers of expectations
Dull murky and fast running
golden and idyllic
God chooses your days for you

shrunken underwear
lost keys
The gps isn't working
vison blurred

make it to the boat in time
the city is flooded
the other teachers already moved off
toward the damp and mold ridden classes

what document must you hand over
ink meets paper
kiss meets cheek
formality juice squeezed with force

clouds too
raining for weeks
roads are rivers
everything is cancelled

Fragments of love in San Miguel

 From his forth story window Hermes could observe the street below. Often distracting himself on purpose from his online work and his crypto account trading and tweeking.
He'd often see fights in the traffic or strangely dressed characters screaming out either to get relief or attention. The only time he averted his gaze was when the local narco gang convoy came in just before dusk. The street below anchored Hermes and welcomed his brain to take a micro-rests between his online piece work jobs.

One of the places he would want to be able to see from his window perhaps was his local coffee house, where a certain waitress worked. It was directly under his building on the street level, never having to give excuses for his many visits as it was basically on his doorstep.
It was a bright sunny monday Hermes took the stairs instead of the elevator, believing it could replace any actual physical exercise. Optimistic blue through the long narrow windows of the stairwell.

The entry bell rang Hermes almost able to ignore the sound refocusing on his path toward the front counter of the coffee house fidling with napkins and glancing over them to see if Anastasia was there. Of course she was. Her shift was in the morning, Hermes wouldn't miss it for the world. Her smile would give him more pep than the high caffeine content of the coffee, lasting him all day.

"Have you got dirty hands or are you trying to hide behind the napkins?" she said provokingly.
The fact he had a place where his favorite toast and coffee were served to him without even having to order it, on top of that served by an angel made Hermes feel like a king. 
"How do you get the buttered toast so right here?" Hermes deflected.
"Our chef uses a special method he brought all the way to San Miguel de allende from Colombia."Anastasia passed the toast over the counter to him.
"Wow, did he share it with you, do you think it's something I could do at home?"
"Only if you own a toaster" Hermes looked down doubtfully then looked up and grinned.
Anastasia's captivating smile expanded into fits of laughter.

 "You know, if this coffee mug had a mouth, it’d be laughing, I admire your sense of humor," he said,  she couldn’t hide her smile.
 Before she could answer, the door slammed open, the glass partially shattering out of it. Five men entered, each one exuding the kind of arrogance that came with unchecked power.

The leader, Tiburon Bala. No mask. No hesitation. Just business. A few of his men also brazenly without masks raised submachine guns, looking menacingly at all present.
"Everyone down. Now."
The sound of gunfire erupted, screams following as bodies hit the ground. Hermes had time to react before a thug shoved him down, sending him sprawling beneath a table. He heard Anastasia cry out, her voice cut short with a sharp intake of breath.

He twisted his neck just in time to see her crumple, a stain of red spreading across her apron. Helplessness choked him. Rage boiled in his chest, there was nothing he could do.

The manager, who had hidden the moment the gang entered, forces to reappear when Tiburon grabbed Anastasia by the neck and pressed his gun to her temple.
"Tavares, show your face, or i'll waste your favorite waitress over here."
 Hermes frowned.
"Ah, there you are," Tiburon said, smirking as the manager’s face drained of color.
 "We've decided we like the look of your place and want to offer you a business proposal, you interested?"

The manager’s voice trembled. "Please… Don't hurt anyone I'll cooperate."
Tiburon raised his brow to him, motioning to one of his men.
"Well in that case." 
 A heated metal stamp appeared, its edges glowing red. Without hesitation, Tiburon ripped the man's polo and pressed it against his chest. The sizzle of burning flesh filled the room, followed by a strangled scream. The word APEX across the manager's chest.

"Little apex mascot now," Tiburon said. "Here’s the deal. You store my product in the back. You exchange my counterfeit notes for real cash. You keep your mouth shut. And to make sure you stay smart, I’ll be placing one of my boys here."
He glanced back at his men. "Oscar, you’re the new sentry. Congratulations." by Oscar's face all could see it was a demotion.

From his position on the floor, Hermes recognized the man stepping forward. Oscar wasn’t a stranger. He was one of the street dwellers Hermes had seen around regularly on the streets below his apartment, a drug fiend who was always hanging out near the junkies. And now, he had a frown on his face, gun in his hands and a new Job. Oscar, he screamed the name in his mind. He had seen the junkies screaming it.

Tiburon turned back to the manager. "You’ll get a small monthly credit. more than enough to keep you comfortable. Don’t mistake kindness for weakness. We'll fucking decapitate you"
"Ok, ok, it works" The manager nodded frantically, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Tiburon put on his widest grin. Now it became obvious his nickname from spanish "shark", tucking his gun away. He had a shark like face, a grin that made him look like he had more teeth than he really did, symmetrical, sharp.
 "Good. Now clean this mess up. And make sure she doesn’t die. I hate wasting potential."As the gang walked out, Oscar lingered for a moment, meeting Hermes' gaze before stepping outside. Hermes’ fists clenched. This man would become his new focal point.

Hermes spent some time alone in his doubt and rage.
He spent most of the afternoon and next day at the hospital with Anastasia whose mother didn't approve. So they took turns by her bedside, by the next day able to be semi pleasant to one another.
Hermes got his work done before dawn, back to the hospital then back home.
"It's not like the coffee house here, the coffee is terrible the only good thing about it is I get to see the waitress that makes my day" Anastasia smiled despite his cheesy attempt at flattery. Hermes wondered if he had leveraged himself out of the friendzone, a well timed offer of flowers and date perhaps.

She became part of his routine. Beyond that he could fit in his work and his new job, Stalking Oscar.
Hermes was not a small man, not weak or even cowardly. Though he wouldn't practice direct violence against anyone unless it was absolutely necessary and safe for himself.
The first week Hermes memorized Oscar's routine. His home address, his hangouts outside of the coffeehouse which he had to attend like some bank security guard. Tasty irony.

His sister also a drug dealer lived in the same sub level flat, a short concrete slope downward to a metal roller door entry. After several days on the internet Hermes had perfected a home made grenade trap using a bucket and some pulleys. 
He walked over to their entry way which was only 300 meters from his own address and went to work setting it up.
It was tuesday morning 4am in the morning and the sun wouldn't rise for another 2 hours.
After rigging it up he went across the road to observe his great works.

The sun now lighting the sky, the roller door didn't budge until 6.30am, Hermes praying the dozens of people who had walked by hadn't noticed the steel bucket tied up to the top of the door. Hermes almost thought Oscar wouldn't come out at all that morning. It was around this time he'd go out, but it had only been five days watching his habits.
The roller door sprang quickly upward clicked to the top and exploded.
Oscar's sister lost her arm and most the right side of her face in the explosion.

Oscar fell quick, taking the blast on his back pieces of garage door in the criminal siblings. Satisfyingly for Hermes the ambulance got there late. Oscar and his sister would be spending the next few weeks in hospital. Hermes went home that morning feeling closure, victory and pride. It just all came crashing down the next day when he was passing the coffee house and grimly witnessed a very injured but still standing Oscar inside on his guard duty. His sister would spend months in hospital though. 

Collateral damage he thought with a shiver.
Hermes went back to work on stalking oscar and recording each and every activity. This time Oscar had one of the other gangsters with him. Vega. Whose piercing eyes gave him the creeps.
He decided to give it a rest to the dust settled. "He will keep." he thought. "He will keep."

He did keep himself away, however he never stopped teaching himself traps, sabotage and hit and run. After another week Anastasia was back in the coffee house and Oscar saw her everyday for his coffee and toast. Under the eyes of an injured disgruntled Oscar.

Pulled from the hospital before he could be processed Tiburon put Oscar up in his small mansion overlooking the city. Bringing in one of their gangster medics and one of the gangboy's mothers who worked as a nurse. 
In the living room Tiburon Vega and injured Oscar spoke that day.
"I saw the damage to the door it could be a professional hit." Vega said.
"Were they trying to kill my sister or me?"
"It wasn't a professional hit" Tiburon said emphatically.

He stared at Oscar.
Vega left the room.
"We know how you humiliated the junkies Oscar, that's why you are a just a stupid guard now."
"I told you that you'd never get away with rubbing shit in their faces."
"What did Vega say" Oscar protested with intention of turning the story.
"He said nothing, some of my old guys are part of that junky group you were selling to."
Tiburon burst into laughter "Now those guys have seen some real horror."
"Any way Vegas gonna keep a check on you. Until you prove you can take care of yourself" Oscar's grimace was priceless.

For the next week Vega watched every move Oscar made. He questioned the junkies, installed a new door and video camera on oscar's door. Every day he spent around Oscar he felt someone watching, something in the shadows.
Before Vega said goodbye, he cautioned him. "Oscar I don't believe that it was your punishing the junkies that caused this. Looks like you got a stalker mano, someone's out there bro. Please becareful."
"I did hurt them Vega, you know what I did, They were coming after hours they found out where I live. I broke one's arm and beat a couple of them half to death."
"I saw them a week later and they looked real angry and then they went to ground."
Vegas phone started to ring as he told Oscar "It's impossible that they attacked you, cabron"

Oscar looked at him speechless breathing out a long and curious "why?"
Vega responded "They didn't go to ground lento, those exact guys overdosed a month ago."

"What's cooking tiburon?"Putting phone to ear. walking out onto the street.
"I'm taking you off Oscar, he's a big boy, I got something big."
Excitement lit Vega's voice "What's up"
"We got some opposition at the local precinct, looking into our new arrangements."
"I'm on it."
"Ahhhhhhhhh" Vega screamed as a shadow past like a swooping vulture. Oscar threw his crutch, unholstered his 45 and limped out to the street shooting in the direction vega pointed. 
Nothing there. Vega on one leg holding his other leg turned slightly offbalance collapsed to the ground.
"Kneecapped me bro" Next 10 minutes screaming and crying.

Hermes had never sprinted so fast in his life and suddenly he was feeling incredibly alive. It was the second hit, sure that his strike had hit home with enough force and purpose to put Oscar's new friend out of action for a while. Twisting the small crowbar in his hand he almost found himself wanting to lick the blood tipped edge of it. Would Anastasia approve of this behaviour?
Of course not. 
But something about lurking in the warm night air. Taking in the clove scented tobacco smoke emittted from the local smoke houses. Echos of his own sprinting footfalls that spoke to him.
He had become an awkward but very effective predator.

Next morning feeling his self worth peak optimistic deep blue sky on sunrise. He pushed open the new door of his local coffee shop. Oscar still looking a little worse for wear.
"Oh yeah and who is going to replace you? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha."
What the hell was Tiburon Bala doing here, a winded feeling in his gut. What was anastasia doing laughing at his jokes? Oh no did he discover it was me? These thoughts made him dizzy.
"So Ana you gonna take a ride with me so we can get better acquainted?" He attempted.
"Maybe after my shift." She said shyly.
This was the guy that almost killed her and now he was courting her with ease.

"Anastasia aren't we going to visit your mother today"
"You hate my mother, remember the hospital?"
"Yeah that's right, who caused you to be  there" Hermes positioned sarcastically.
Anastasia turned bright red. 
Hermes got struck across the face with a cane handle before he could turn to see who had done it he fell on his ass, in a way that made everyone in the coffee house chuckle including manager Tavares.

It was Vega, bony observant and extremely quick, using his new cane to punish Herme's implication.
"Vega stand down, the guy's just jealous, let it simmer a while old pal. It's half the thrill."
Vega didn't heed and drew the cane handle under Hermes chin picking him up to his feet.
"If you've got a complaint, I'd like to hear it straight to my face." Vega threatened.
"No complaint, this is your place now. Ill be going." And he'd never enter the place again.
"Oh don't be like Hell man." Tiburon quipped.

He took one last look back at Anastasia who seemed quite neutral. Had she fallen for the charms of this menace? And Tiburon's last comment, "hell man" Was he putting himself in hell by becoming this vindictive and violent person.

He spent the next week at his cousins house in Tres cruces. It was a full house, with some party going on.
In the lounge a few close friends were knocking their glasses and congratulating each other.
"What are we celebrating Carlos?" Hermes awkwardly raised his voice.
"Meet Marcos and his crew, one of my best friend's from Poly bro."
"Oh wow do you guys work in Forensics like carlos?"
"Nah bro we getting it done for swat, aye." Marcos responded cheerfully.

"Why you guys so happy and where did you eses get so much whiskey?"
"Yo Carlos your cus on the straight with us or he go some connect to the la banda"
"Hahahahaha, he's squarer than me mano."
Marcos face took a sudden look of seriousness. "Order went out, local prisons been full for three months. Mayor wants us to confiscate everything, what doesn't fit in lock up goes to us. Including cash." 
"Is that legal" Hermes jaw dropped.
"It is around here homes, we got no other way of punishing these fiends."
"what do you do with guys you lock up."
"The resisters get lead and after a photoshoot  the survivors get driven out of the city."
A strange and brilliant grin made the hair on Carlos' neck stand up, even marcos got a funny feeling.

The patrol car entered the main street slowly following Vega's footsteps. A year from the coffee house being taken over by Tiburon. Hermes had made several attempts to contact Anastasia, not getting a single response.
he hurried into the old coffee house where Oscar and Tavares were speaking.
"I'm being tailed by some police unit. lets just act naturally. I don't think they have anything on me"
The police vehicle stopped outside and a plainclothes officer go out and entered the shop casually.

Vega and the others kept quiet. 
Anastasia asked "What will it be?"
Just a coffee and a piece of toast. 

The plain clothes cop stared at them all and seemed to be taking a mental note of the inside.
Vega felt like pulling his nine out and ending him there and then. But it looked like some elaborate trap. It'd been so long vega had felt so hopeless.
The hours passed and Anastasia  folded her apron and made for the door.
"None of you can leave" The words made Vega and Oscar cringe. 
"Get back to the kitchen. I'm gong to get hungry." 
The plainclothes cop slowly turned pointing his .38 at vegas hip, as if by magnet pull Vega went for his gun, plainclothes smirking, the round burned through Vegas hand and cracked his gun barrel.
Oscar leapt to the ground, neither men used to this amount of confrontation as everyone had just given up for so long.

"What do you want cop" Vega pleaded holding his injured hand.
"We've come down to take ten percent of your earnings. We know your tough so you're gonna be a real sure thing." He called Tavares from the back. "write an inventory of all your gear, and what comes in and goes out. Our task force needs new equipment, your outfit is going to pay for it."
"ok no problem" Vega stalled reaching for a throwing knife.
His phone rang before he could get a grip. "Vega stand down they hit us, the rest of the gang is dead. They want to tax us our five places and all our shipments." Tiburon sounded like he was being strangled.

Plainclothes patted them all down and took some of the cash from the coffee house.
Took their guns exited and took off in the patrol car with it's driver.
Vega thought about heading out of the city, getting away from it all.
His outrage got the better of him, he armed oscar and himself with submachine guns and drove to Tiburon's mansion in the hills.
They entered dove from the doors of the car and circled around the Mansion to a secret side door.

Adrenaline pulsed in vega's vein and hot fear in Oscar's. They broke into the house and came out on the kitchen lounge where four men were sitting around a coffee table counting money, one of the men was using Tiburon as a foot stool.
"Hands behind you're heads get your fucking feet off."
The men obeyed rapidly but just didn't seem surprised enough for Vega's satisfaction.
"I said take your feet off him"
Hands came out from nowhere, guns rose to Oscar and Vega's head from behind them.
Vega screamed "I know you, I've seen you before."
Hermes stood up and approached Vega.

"You are under arrest pendejo" 
Tiburon, Vega and Oscar were put in the huge basement space of the mansion, once a storage space for stolen goods, drugs extra cash and even small machines. Now made a perfect makeshift prison.
Marcos nodded "you need anything else from us Hermano?" 
"Just the car keys homes"
Marcos frowned. "You sure know how to take."
"Yeah that's because noone gives freely"
The two of them laughed and Marco and his guys left.

A knock came from the front door, Hermes went to answer it. It was Anastasia

 
 

 
 

The charter of Toutanis(commiseration Pharsalia)

 Brew these wars grevious and civil 
Toutanis cuts the ingredients
Harness destruction directive expedience
Crime let loose by the elite unrefraining

Citizenry awkwardly slain
Bullet cuts short an attempt at life
Antimony's journey through flesh
blood loss and surrender to death

Craters and missiles inspired by this week's greed
The land opens up and reluctantly bleeds
Blood defiled by fat and guilt enkindled town's fumes
spreading and receeding from the open wound

A mouth between Kingdom's
Refining the grains of sought hostility
To feed starving Toutanis' voraciously
Rage and vengeance blundering thrones

Fire fire drone on drone
nuke on nuke blow by blow
wading into the fire alone
Ancient entity bathing in the inferno

Flames that hug battle ridden horizons
touch clouds of a setting sun sending thunder
giving no division between the exploding sky
and land ablaze thereunder

Profane Dearth

 Two children ran cheerfully down the concrete aisles of the indoor stadium. Despite a clear day whole areas of dark shadow covered much of the stadium seating. Both would be made to run again that day, in a way that would mark one of them for life.

Touti grinning with sugary juice stained cheeks.
Halim a quirky smile and questoning eyes. The other children who were helping that day didn't have the same gusto. As the two reached the bottom of the concrete seating terraces the spiritual supervisor or "Praiseworthy" asked them to go back into the aisles to bring back the lost or cursed(in their language) children.
Halim and Touti marched between the concrete seats enthusiastically some infant bride maid and ringbearer, ritualistic, something unknowable.
They came down chatting recounting their happy memories of the day. Holding the cold hands of lost children tightly. Guiding them out into the open valley that extended past the stadium. On the luminescent grass.

"Take their hands in yours, let go of the deep want. "
The lost children struggled to escape, some did, running back to the stadium of envy, relief and pride in them. 
Halim held his child "Let go of your want". The lost child's passive expression made Halim impatient.
Touti's lost child had struggled one hand free, kicking to get away. 
"Release the false love" Touti yelled, stamping her foot onto the grass. The lost child reconnected her hands with Touti's and the transference began.

The lost children's pale faces started to fill with blood again, making them seem more alive.
Before long the curses had dried like autumn leaves, snake skin, little trash heaps on the ground.
Those saved children walked uneasily off toward the recently flooded lowlands where shanty towns and country villas would take them in. The "praiseworthy" blessing them as they went.

Halim and Touti ran as sleek predators avoiding the shadowed areas to grab another two lost ones.
Touti took one by the hand, giving her a reassuring friendly introduction.
Desolation struck Halim He looked up through concrete aisles finding that small lost form would validate him. Emptiness rose from his lower stomach and he was entrenched inside a profound state of lonliness. All light was severed. A shadowy haze moved in.
"Will you give me the orange life?" a colorless face looked up at Halim.
Speechless paralyzed Halim tried his mouth, not a syllable would pass.
"Here we search for the things not given, see them in yourself," The girl invoking a solemn and cryptic spell.

A darkness unnoticed before, had started to create curtains around Halim and the lost child.
"I can help you" Blurted Halim. "I can take you to our praiseworthy, he can heal you."
The girl's face ran even paler. 
"I have Golgen of the dark I want to be like you, he wants to be like you too"
Halim gripped her hand and led her down toward the exit.
Each footfall turned the room a darker shade, by the time he got to the bottom it was pitch black. Blowflies were buzzing around and the girl was not with him. He searched for her hand in the dark.
The darkness disappeared and he found himself where he'd been as if he'd never moved, still clasping the lost girls's hand.

Images appeared of everything he was refused as a child, Not yet ten years old he could recount thousands of memories. All of those things either out of reach or outright refused. Each memory finding a connection to another forming an entity in his mind. Golgen!
"Praiseworthy" He screamed in protest.
The sight of her pale white features flickered as if lightening had clapped. She attempted to break out of Halim's firm grasp. 
He led her this time wincing his eyes and praying as hard as he could, down the concrete aisles and out to the hallowed field.

Praiseworthy stood confidently before them and took the girl's hand. Halim released his grip and threw himself on the ground feeling betrayed by all harrowing experience infecting him somehow.
At first the power of the Praiseworthy seemed to surge eliminating stringlike shadows that had followed the girl out of the stadium.
The children of praise who had now all assembled observed the paling face of the Praiseworthy. Eyes of disbelief, some bursting into tears.

Touti helped Halim to his feet positioning him and herself toward the praise worthy sending their combined energy to combat the lostgirl's possession.
Halim's mind still distracted by those old memories of insensed unrequited want.
The lost girl uttered with malicious intent "I have enough want for you priest and all of your little underlings"

Spruce trees that formed a circular boundary around the hallowed pasture burst into flame. Short teethlike flames working of their own accord pumping black smoke into the air.
slowly but surely obscuring the sun.
The fire curled into eye shapes that stared at Halim. whites and pupils appeared from inside them, the wanting had a soul somehow literally consuming the trees. Revealed by the lost girl harnessing the force of Golgen the entity of profane dearth.
Halim grabbed Touti's hand and as many children as they could. They ran in panic eastward toward mountains of healing.

 The stadium's bell chimed sinisterly. It's round old colosseum design smiled within itself.
A smile in anticipation of future deluge of the lowlands.

Diffusion

 It opens like a flower, like a bomb
like a generous well
Symmetry sculpts the heart
each chisel blow

It expands to live on
sponge like minds
enjoy short duration
we guess nectar

Such flowers bloom
mouths curve lips
effortlessly
unware

dough rises
The warmth of the oven
is that what family is?
does love smell like that?

color assaults the eye
overpowers it
Is tamed by it
lips open eyes

expand them
dazzle them
So passive the beholder
effortless spongelike

A drop of comfort
each dimple sharp

Heedless Dawn on Sorum street

 T'was a chilly dawn. A woman in her eighties awkwardly crawling into the back compartment of her stationwagon with her injured dog. Both were shaking.
A young couple slinked off with their half breed Saint bernard.
A huge dog that seemed to extend like an accordion. It had been off it's lead and had bounced onto the old woman and her labrador pushing them both to the ground bucking and trampling them.

The young couple Bes and Plug didn't grip the situation and had simply run after their dog, leaving the old woman and her dog injured on the ground. They ran up the next driveway into a large front yard the accordion like bodied dog knocking over plant pots and flattening shrubs. The careless couple laughing and screaming behind.

"He's so energetic, look how he runs and jumps over everything." Plug observed despite his short windedness.
"Lets see if we can catch up to him" Bes commented.

The sun was coming up slowly the overcast sky was now exposing the land and making the reality of everything seem more intense. As she slowly raised her body to attempt crawling out of the back of the station wagon, the old woman had a very painful heart attack. Breathing irregular. Her Labrador howled long soft lamented tones.

"This is an adventure Plug" Bes shouted between short giggles.
"Where will he go next?"
"You are on private property and your dog is destroying my garden." Said a cruel voice from a window of the house.
Plug and Bes changed their direction and started running out of the stony driveway with concerned looks on their faces shaken at being rebuked so suddenly. Their huge dog bounded after them realizing the party was over.

But it wasn't over Both Plug and Bes attempted to steady the dog in vain as it passed them and continued it's violent jumping and chasing in the street ahead.
As the couple got to the street they noticed briefly the blue grey stationwagon and a strange muffled howling. Without a shrug they continued after their dog.

The dog was already sixty meters ahead and had turned a corner out of sight.
Another old lady 20 years younger than the one who'd just this minute suffered a heartattack was walking her miniature poodle. The couple's big clumsy dog sprinted at the poodle and gave a quick nip to it's neck.
The old lady screamed and bellowed giving a well aimed kick to the Saint Bernard's head. Despite the impact and precision of the kick almost maternally motivated the big dog sprinted across the other side of the road, missing an oncoming hyundai by half a meter. Causing the car to veer and smash it's side mirror onto the mirror of an oncoming truck.

Bes and Plug had caught up by this stage passing the old woman and her paralyzed mini poodle both shaking and uttering strange groans. The couple crossed the street to find the dog hunched over some beautiful petunias heaving out his doggy number two. A big man in his thirties appeared on the scene same time as the couple "I just planted them yesterday and now he's going to shit all over them."
"Why isn't he on a leash?" The couple looked up at the man with dumbfounded expressions.
The dog looked up at the man and gave a jovial bark. "He is cute though isn't he? Is that a saint Bernard?" 
"Yes we got him yesterday, he's so energetic" Bes replied.
"Can you help us grab him, we've been running for three blocks now"
An entertained look of satisfaction appeared on the big man's face, as he launched himself at the dog. Picking the dog up by his collar and reattaching the leash that Plug had just handed him.

The three of them and the big dog crossed the street as if they had known each other for years, the dog seemed to obey every command the big man gave. On that side of the street the woman sat awkwardly caressing her poodle, tears streaming down onto the deep red stain through the cotton wool.
Bes, Plug and the big man paid no mind to woman. The big man continued to brag about his ability to train dogs, obtaining special nods of approval from Bes.

They passed the blue greyish stationwagon, Overcast skies now assembled, emanating the exact tone of the car.  The older woman's hand hung conspicuously out of the open hatch door. The injured labrador lurking within sprang and seized the big Saint Bernards back leg in it's jaws growling in long sinister bursts. Plug almost jumped out of his skin. Bes covered her mouth with both open hands in shock. The big man clamped down on the neck of the labrador breaking it's neck in a two second movement that seemed well practiced nonetheless brutal.

He exclaimed "a lot of people are just careless with their animals, this one obviously ferrel, let's dispose of it's body at the vet." The three of them stood in silence just looking at the ground for a few uncomfortable minutes. The Saint Bernard looked down at the dead labrador, trotted over to the old woman's hand conveniently mouth level and started licking aggressively.

"Let's go get a beer together, afterward" the big man counterpoised. Oblivious to their dog's new flavor toy the three of them started walking naturally pulling the big half breed Saint Bernard away. 
"I don't know what we would have done without you." Bes coined. The tone pulled a sensual note out of both men. Plug looked at the ground, the big man smiled broadly, and the dog let out a short whine of protest at being pulled away from the old woman's hand.

Drowned standing

 They were full of imaginings
as they walked together
four friends awkardly ambled
the crumbled remains of a footpath

"splash" all three of them almost drowned standing
as a 36 seat tour bus ploughs through a roadside puddle
you wouldn't discern tears from the soaked hair, faces
and shivering bodies that now changed direction

Not a good look for an afternoon at the cinema said one
the others agreed just enough to have their sadness felt
Like a coach falling apart each wheel rolling
to a separate address

to bitterly recount their sudden misfortune
in detail the drama, the action the pain and regret
they all felt, without even seeing the film.

What did you do at school today?

 "I'm off to school Mum" I said over my shoulder. Over my other shoulder I carried my bag, sliding door blabbed and I was off. Hayden was outside waiting frustrated look on his face. Forced to walk to school with my brother and I. My brother always late. The sun high enough over the hill to hit the tips of the grass melting the subtle frost and making it seem more like dew.
"Where's your brother?"
"Oh he's still getting ready." I said in the most entitled voice I had.
"How long do you think he's going to be?" his tone slightly abrupt.
"I don't know, you'd have to ask him."
Hayden looked evidently frustrated. I hid my smirk. But in two minutes I'd be just as frustrated, as my brother searched for certainties my mother didn't have.

Without reproach the three of us walked to school, the dew looked lke tiny diamonds hanging from the grass and dark green shoots were forming on the treelines of the residential streets. Yes Daffodils August's only bragging rights perhaps.
"Don't talk to me" Hayden said.
I longed to mention to him that I found him to be the dullest possible individual I had ever met. And that it was convenient that he'd requested silence. Although he did seem to know more about things than my brother and I. Better neglect than foul influence perhaps.
Down the predictable short slope to school. Hayden marched forward pretending not to be associated with us. He had skin that automatically blushed so easily, it reddened so deeply one wasn't sure if he was hellbent bitter angry or ashamed. Other people's opinions weighed heavily on him, certainly not ours, clearly.

After about a decade or so my brother would learn how to conform with the common norms just like Hayden. Mimicking the popular expressions and behaviour to fit in. I'd be the sore thumb doing something weird and embarrasing others and sometimes even myself. That day at school my passive swagger got me through without too much effort. 

Hanging my school bag on the hook in the cloakroom which was right next to the bathrooms, the smell of urinal cakes and mold from some of the other kids school bags. So unkempt and clumsy the class would have made a popular comedy series. The stale dusty smell of the classroom. The teacher forcing herself to greet us.
"Hi sweet heart, how are you this morning" she beamed.
"What did I do to deserve such a welcome" My mind was screaming, But I didn't actually say it.
"Good mrs Brown" A programmed answer that seemed to turn the lock.
Before I could dwell on the idea some child was doing something interesting enough to capture my attention. Or I was dragged off by another early arriver to do something they needed a plus one to play with. 

At 15pm the day was done and I was on my way home, my brother would find me on our predictable route home. The ground dry and warm by a few degrees now, Morning seemed another universe.
For the afternoon held promise of a few free hours before dinner and the tedious inquisition about the day with mother. More questions I wouldn't be able to easily answer.

On our last league of the journey home, a few questions did pop up though.
"Simon what does (Insert curse word) mean?
"Do you think we'll see Dad tonight?"
I felt like a cash empty bank with lines of people asking for money. I had nothing to offer and no way to dodge the questions. I sometimes made up answers and when my brother found out, he'd rebuke me for days on end. The truth was I didn't know what the words meant. I didn't know where my father was.

Past Michele's house who they called fleabag, I never understood bullying at that early stage.
Past may's house a thin sticklike cricket enthusiast a year older, obsessed with sports and cursing us when he got the chance. Past the cree's house a fattish friend of my brothers with a strange english father. Then on to the flat combed lawns of my home street. So familiar, external, yet inside me.
Hugging me when I was distraught and alone and taught that my problems were my own.
The sliding door blabbed as I pulled it open, babysitter on the couch pretended with less forced effort than the teacher
 "Hi simon, so good to see you, where's your brother?" 
"He's coming" My brother would often walk a few paces behind as we got into the house.
The smile she gave me wasn't completely fake. Which seemed to rid me of the burdens I'd typically carried home with me. 
My brother kicked off his favorite gumboots.(his only pair, but he prefered them more than shoes, probably because there was no laces, and tying shoes involved hours of screaming). I hung my bag in the laundry and went to the kitchen.

Having no idea of the world I lived in, another day at school seemed to change nothing, my brain, my heart and soul seemed to generate a tiny percentage of the awareness I have today. Curiosity was never scarce, however everything was a mystery that required much too much effort to investigate.

Tatooed flimsy heart

 under the want
A piece of you
crying to admit
an unfair world

slide on through
these sleek routines
such lifestyles
molding a profile

Under your want
the eternal flavor
pouring out in secret
crying to find a limit

Peaceful existence
so many compare
you just merge
the length of it all

discover this now
what shade of human
ambiguous for now
each eternal flavor

each juicy mistake
written on each face
You just don't smile
It's all allowed

practical jokes are louder than car accidents
Romance and sincerity long hurse ride
Lose yourself in the moments
noone would give themselves to admit

The direction of the river

 In Balance with itself
symmetrical knowing
relaxed poised
humble beauty

knowledge hides
graceful lizard
sunlover track that track it
smoothly

streamlike
river fever
clasping rocks
wetting them

Dragged away
passive criminal
eyes speak
convey

Knowledge refuses
intoxicatingly graceful

The silent heart
blares like such an alarm

The three triangles

 The secret of power is separation they say. Separation of class, physical separation. Human hierarchy above and beyond the access of the peasant masses. With the middle class consolidating spaces in spacious appartments high up in tower complexes.

The Women of the triangle ruling from 2040 represent this Hierarchy. allowing the advancement of the human race as a unit, yet separating the classes. Not because they necessarily enacted it with their policies, human kind as we know it are born to vary in skill and intelligences, during each epoch some are redundant or even overlooked, others take center stage.

A company Gishvera controled the network of hydroelectric dams here in Brazil in 2040. Intricate networks of efficient energy creating hardware, that among other things filtered drinking water.

In the dry areas towers were erected under the highlands surrounded by deep moats going down three hundred meters holding vast amounts of water. The towers consisted of a control center for the distribution of energy from the turbines, river water and clean drinking water toward the scattered peasant towns in the low lands.

Huge triangular windows in the towers symbolized the movement upheld by three women. hundreds of thousands of wealthy merchant and administrative class families lived in the tall buildings within these towers, with access to thousands of consumer products the peasant class could only dream of obtaining. The exclusive access was the customized leveraged reward to get ample productivity out of the middle classes.

Obsession with brand and ostentation accelerated into a fully materialistic reality. For the tower dwelling middle class all house hold jobs are carried out by robots and automation, something the lowland people usually have to build or design themselves at a high cost.
Gargantuan air ships that float above the towers housed the elite class who often float around several of the hydro towers, monitoring and upgrading each one. The elite class reproduce using laboratories using processes like crispr to enhance their offsprings health intelligence and behaviour. During war or exploration they have neural chips inserted enabling them better planing and respond to threats and problems.

Gishvera doesn't have a land army and relied on a mix of new age jets, fast moving drones and paratroopers. Everything is controlled by air.
Large floating aircraft carriers move toward a conflict. Deploying over land cities in time of conflict. Civil wars continue to plague the world, revolutionary movements surging in times of lack.
The three triangles dominate the world through the energy company Gishvera, the mining conglomerate
FA Frugal Abundance, and the intellectual spiritual movement the three triangles, which only serves and influences the highest elite.

In the poorest of towns, besides cleaner water and an abundance of good food, not a lot changes. The struggle to acquire a place in the towers becomes the meaning of life. And even after that the main goal of the tower classes is still to consume. As the moon, mars and asteroids are inhabited all being mined, material wealth keeps most economies healthy. Space tourism is not cheap but much more popular than earth tourism. Social ascension is probable for many of the lowlands. criteria ranging from skills, health, fertility, personal habits. Under the panels of Gishvera analysts.

Dog applied

 dog lies
head turned inward
graceful posture
kitchen door strategy

Dog eyes
prepared lunch
mouth opens ferry tongue passes
over saliva sea

dog sighs
unfed and unseen
you'd notice the discontent
doggy language

Dog dines
just biscuits and a piece of egg
midday a fussy child
slopping water

looking up for seconds
what pets we make to the world

voodoo airlines

 flying voodoo
I'd love to smell the top of the city
flooded in darkness
that marroned top hat

A look of surprise
Survivers usher us to shush
oh the danger and entrees
The endless night

exit a night breeze
rutted nightmare
taking it's time to dissapate
A look of surprise

staring from the window ledge
saxophone fell crashing off the side
smashing into lil fragments
lipgloss and surprised eyes

Streetlights flicker
something appears from nowhere
enters your thick dream
but how the hell did it get in here

breathing shifts
the brow heats like an element
nervous heart
wake to the dim

where did you slaughter
a sense of sanity
leading us through
the eternity of colorful rumours

That huddle up to us in slumber
swapping places
getting their ghastly mugshots
singing their long stories

their luggage at that foot of your bed
voodoo flight ready
gate's in your head
they're leaving now

you are right there...

A drink before work

 Observing these silly teenage friends playing dare on the parapet. Buddy the youngest and boldest took a step toward the ledge, the toes of his boot making it just over the edge. He screamed "Do something with our life" Imitating a teacher they'd had that day. Obviously trying to impress the two older girls in the group. Every few minutes the group seemed to move an inch closer to the edge of the building's terrace rooftop.
Buddy inched his backfoot halfway closer to the ledge provoking gasps from the group behind him. Tony yelled at him "Buddy get back here, you are going to kill yourself". Buddy's body completely facing the open night air off the building, scoffed. 

He slowly turned his upper body without changing the position of his legs or feet on the ledge. Above the terrace exit door hung a sinister slightly blue halogen that lit up Buddy's face as he exclaimed, "You guys are meters from the edge completely terrified, you will never feel this freedom I have right now."
Sarah chimed in "Buddy what are supposed to do if you fall?"
Uneasy the group stared at Buddy. Buddy's eyes became reflective the way a cat's does in the dark, his face forming an impudent monkeyish grin.
"Nothing because I'll be flying out here in the night, I can fly over all of this, I am immortal!"
And with that Buddy launched himself off the building. Jemma scoffed as if it were a joke.

 The others ran to the edge holding on to the tiny parapet looking for signs of buddy's broken smudge of a body somewhere below. The street was well lit, a couple of people were walking home from a late night at the office, cars were passing by. But on the pavement there was nothing except the concrete folds of where sidewalk met road and alternated through entryways and intersections.
Jemma pretending not to care flicked a cigarette out of the shiny box effortlessly as if the competiton to impress everyone was still on. Tony shakily asked for one, and she repeated her neat little trick. The rest of them remained speechless their mouths agape.

Amaury The oldest started calling out. "Buddy where are you? Are you okay? where did you go man?"
Tony, Jemma and Sarah joined him. Screaming as loud as they possibly could, "BUDDY WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GO?? WHERE ARE YOU?
They felt panic in the veins of their wrists and neck conquered only by aggressive curiousity. Where was Buddy's body? How did he just disappear as if he hadn't fallen at all, and merely disappeared. Tony the smartest of them felt it was like Buddy was playing a practical joke on them, one that made his stomach ache and his heart pound like electric shocks. The others were even more bewildered.

The group sat down close to the ledge and started to discuss going back down to the pavement to check, providing there was no sign of him, they would head home and wait for Buddy to reappear at school taunting them. Amaury got up angrily and started shouting desperately out into the night "Buddy where are you, are you okay? say something!"
The streetlights below suddenly went out and the blue halogen light on the buidling's rooftop door dimmed. An echo of a voice could be heard, the teens turned from the dimmed halogen light out toward the now even darker night air off the building.

"You'll never feel this freedom, I will fly forever in this night. I am immortal."
Tony breathed a sigh of relief, only to gasp heavy air, Jemma Sarah and Amaury were on the ledge looking out toward the shape of Buddy hovering an odd forty meters from them.
Buddy's catlike eyes making the whole scene evermore surreal.
Jemma screamed out "Buddy can I fly too? How are you doing this?"
Sarah pulled her back, "Don't do that Jemma, this is not normal"

Amaury put his foot up to the ledge, Tony and the girls atleast a meter from the edge called, "Amaury get back off the ledge, There's something going on here." Amaury turned around, instead of a defiant grin he wore an acquiescent frown. Launching himself off the building, as if dutifully doing a chore for his mother, shrugging his shoulders apathetically before he disappeared.

Buddy's shape came closer as the Tony and the girls looked below for signs of Amaury's body.
He repeated the words "Do something with your life." The three looked up to see Buddy floating about twenty meters from them now, hovering Buddy pointed his right hand upward from shoulder height and continued to taunt them, "You will never have this freedom."

Sarah got up as if possesed sprinted toward the blue halogen light opened the door and she was gone, probably directly home to huddle in a corner somewhere. 
Jemma hugged Tony as they watched Buddy hover off the building.
Tony kept his eye on Buddy as Jemma buried her face in Tony's chest her sobbing still audible.
Buddy swung toward and away from Tony "I will fly all night, I am immortal."
Tony shouted at him " STOP IT BUDDY, WHAT IS THIS? 
Buddy came in real close and uttered a single word- "cowardice"
Infuriated Tony placed Jemma aside and grabbed onto Buddy's baseball sweatshirt, perplexed he saw blood all over it, without a second to give thought to it, Tony was pulled from the ledge and also disappeared.

Jemma took two long paces backwards facing outward. She could hear screaming now coming from below. It was definitely Sarah. She realized that her friends must have fallen to their deaths, and that buddy had used some diabolical ruse for duping them. After a few minutes in silence she realized she was alone.
She turned to run but picked up a strange shape in her peripheral hugging the side of the adjacent building. She slowly paced to the otherside of the building not ten meters away in the darkness something clung to a window ledge, about twelve stories off the ground. She activated her cellphone light which illuminated a very formally dressed skinny man in his early thirties with a thick custom made Iv drip in the corner of his mouth and something big in his free arm. It was a briefcase and a body.

Buddy's limp body looking up at Jemma directly with that defiant grin and those cat like reflective eyes, yet his body seemed drained, was he dead? He still looked alive. The clothes the young man was dressed in seemed to be from the forties.
The IV drip seemed to be hooked up to Buddy's neck, the young man said, "Just getting a drink before work." She could see the red liquid moving through the IV into his mouth and Buddy's grin widening.