Exile

I find myself sitting in a dark room,
afraid of human contact. I am shivering,
even though the heat is turned up high.
perhaps the insulation in this centuries
old building is not sufficient to keep out
the portent of winter settling down
upon our heads. I shift my weight a little,
as my position leaning up against the wall
becomes numbing. I am in some sort of prison,
but by now I have become so accustomed
to it I cannot remember if a foreign agent
has put me here, or if I am in some exile.
Nothing comes in, save for a bowl
of rice shoved at me from the narrow chink
of light that shows under the door. I have come
to know this benevolent hand as Jeff. Its venation
betrays a soft feminine touch, the small hands
gingerly remove the bowl, and slam small
door shut with a clinking sound. The nails
are nicely trimmed, and very clean.

I have taken to defecating in the opposite
corner near the air vent. When I first arrived,
I had hoped that removal from this place
would come shortly. I held in my animal urges
for days, only to relent. That first time,
I felt faint, as the circulation is poor
and the fumes that sat feet away from me
had been sent to porcelain depths for all
the life that I can remember.
I don’t have that now.

Dr. VonSprout’s Device

Dr. VonSprout’s Device

Dr. Felix VonSprout created
a device to generate ultimate
pleasure. Electrical wires
are connected to a large
contraption that wires directly
in the pleasure center of the brain.

However, the button can be pressed
only twice every ten minutes.
Those who have been connected
marveled about its amazing power.
They speak of something more though.
They tell of the burst of pleasure,
the release of tension, along with
the intense craving for more.

This burst only last two minutes,
and Dr. Felix watches people greedily
press the button immediately after
the first burst, as a result, they have to wait
a painful six minutes until they can press
the button once again.

Felix watches these people scream for death
in these hellish minutes without the high
voltage of the machine coursing through their
amygdale.

Obituary

I smile when strangers die.
Knowing as I flip the newspaper to the back page,
It will be me, on the by & by.

I can’t remember when , I think it was last July,
when it was I imagined your smiling face gracing that page,
but I still smiled when strangers die.

I could not find a way to cry,
standing, you were still so alive at that stage
because I know it will be me, on the by & by.

I thought, I could not bring myself to watch you lie
lying so cold and still, the hand of fate brought me rage.
It’s so much easier when strangers die.
And now after a graceful death, your soul will fly
straight to the creator you loved, your body in an oak cage.
We still wished you could have waited for the by & by.

And I am left dumfounded, looking at the sky and asking, “Why?”
The meaning of this existence I still cannot gauge,
Even when we know it’s going to be us, on the by & by,
it’s so much easier when strangers die.