Fortune doesn’t come to those

Ignorant enough to believe that

No one is irreplaceable.

Despite one's greatest efforts

Even the most prestige will suffer the

Ragnarök if one becomes cancer upon the host’s skin.

For cancer must be cut out early to prevent the spread of its fatal disease.

Understanding this sooner will make it easier for everyone.

© 2023 Chris Sadhill

Instead of cucumbers

I place pickles over my eyes

because I prefer to think that self-induced agony

makes me stronger and more resilient.

I am a glutton for punishment,

so, I lay back and let the brine work its way in.

Never wincing—Never offering a single reaction to its burn,

but my retinas are on fire.

The cohesion of pickle juice and natural saline

works its way toward my brain

like a starving parasite eating its last meal.

I welcome this torture

because I find comfort in pain

and already know the sting will fade away in time,

or, I’ll just become too numb to feel it.

After all, pain is more familiar than love,

which for me is like love,

because it’s always there for me even when I never need it.

I deeply appreciate its loyalty and commitment,

and though it’s not reciprocated, it’s unconditional.

I light a candle to unwind.

A flickering flame soothes my unrest.

Lavender releases from the wax prison it was held in,

but still, I prefer the Sulphur of a match

over a deceased flower’s final excrement

because the aroma of hell is how I relax.

Dead Flowers and hell. They’re both the same anyways, right?

Everything revolves around death and ends in death.

Even while the oil bleeds out of an unsuspecting aromatic herb,

its beautiful aroma is squeezed from its last breath.

So, everything is resolved in death.

There is only one place for us in the end. For me, it’s hell.

So, I decided to get there sooner by living in one.

I wonder if they can make a candle that smells like hell.

Do you think they can extract the essence of a decaying body

and place it in a wax jar like they did that Lavandula?

I flip on a tune,

to set the mood with my favorite soundscape—

A waterfall crashing into a rainforest.

Now that’s a sound I can drown myself in.

It spills down from three thousand feet above

and smothers me like I'm being waterboarded by nature.

How interesting that water gives life, yet can so easily take it away.

Angel Falls is not my guardian protector,

but it is a fallen angel I must protect and guard

because she lifts me up closer to heaven than I’ve ever been,

then drops me back down to earth where I guess I belong. For now.

I place a warm rag over my face to simulate the Amazonian climate,

Then turn on the faucet to full blast

so, I can practice how to breathe.

No gills mean there is a struggle,

but a struggle is what I crave.

With every gulp of oxygen I lose, my existence fades,

and I start to appreciate all the small things a little more.

Who knew being closer to death,

helps you love life a little better?

Why can’t I just get there on my own instead of forcing it?

Am I fucked up for living this way,

or is living this way how I fuck?

The timer blares a turbulent cry,

and my deprivation is complete.

While the tank opens to birth me back into reality,

I can’t help but wonder,

If I am reflecting on thoughts of death because I want it,

or if it’s how I cope with knowing the fate of humanity.

The salty bath I floated in slides off me like water repels oil,

like cheaters repel love.

and like humans repel humans.

I rinse off my secret thoughts in the shower,

dry off self-hatred with a towel,

then put on a costume of lies so I may enter the world,

and on the way out I schedule another visit

to my torture spa.

I can’t wait to live again,

next month.

Love is love.

Though we call each other rude names

or sometimes fight

or yell at each other over the telephone

know that, no matter what, I will always love you.

Forever.

That’s the meaning of love to me.

I shouldn’t have done it! Why oh why did I confess to my psychiatrist what I had done? It had been my own little secret for years but I knew I had to get it off my chest before my acidic thoughts destroyed me. What else could I do? I had tried writing it down on paper as a release and then burning my confession but it didn’t work as well as I would have liked.

I had spent almost a year getting nowhere with my doctor. He was watching me closely and saying nothing as I began my story.

“I had a boyfriend named Darren who treated me like an angel. But I made the mistake of telling him about the baby I had when I was sixteen which I had given up for adoption. Because of this choice, I was able to finish school and become a physical therapist and even my parents didn’t know. But now Darren knew and he kept harassing me to tell my parents and try to find the baby. I didn’t want to. I was happy, making good money and respected in my field. But he wouldn’t let up and I was desperate, afraid that he might tell my parents. It really was his fault because he made me feel guilty as I relived that terrible time in my life.” Tears were coursing down my cheeks as I made this confession to my doctor.

“How did you resolve it?” asked Dr. Ogden.

“Well,” I sighed, “I had no choice but to get rid of the problem. Darren and I were mountain hiking when he slipped and fell off the cliff. The rocks were loose and the authorities agreed that it was an accident. I never knew how terrible it would be to see his crushed and broken body at the bottom.”

“Was it an accident?” Dr. Ogden looked at me closely as I answered.

I knew he suspected that I had pushed Darren to his death. “I won’t admit that I had anything to do with it.” But I knew he had come to his own conclusion.

I remembered feeling a small sense of relief when I burned the paper earlier in which I wrote my confession about giving up my baby.

I will burn my world and also, will burn my past completely, I thought. So what could I do? Dr. Ogden now knew about Darren. I must ‘burn the doctor’ so to speak. I took out my pistol and shot him. Dead men tell no tales.

The night air was cool. The lad waited for the right moment to strike.

‘‘Ugh.’’

He tossed his spear by the river. This was taking forever. Maybe he needed to be more patient.

Tim heard something approaching. He turned to see what it was.

The female deer raised its head and stared at Tim. He turned his head to the side.

Its heart was beating so fast. He tried to search its mind for what was causing it to flee from this part of the woods, but the deer sprinted away in a flash.

Tim bent down to grab his spear. He had picked up an unusual sound coming from the side that the deer had been spotted.

This was not how he had thought his night was going to go. All he wanted was to catch some fish.

He sighed & almost laughed. His fear was making him to hear things.

The second that he turned around to move closer to the river~ something had leaped out from the woods and came charging toward him. Tim’s heart skipped a beat!

He turned around and froze at the sight of the creature. It growled at Tim.

The creature stood facing the lad. It howled and jumped into the air.

Tim quickly bent down and held his spear much tighter in one hand. Then with his other free hand a burst of flames were fired at the creature.

It cried and started running away from Tim. Before it disappeared into the woods- it looked back at the lad and squinted its eyes.

**************************************

Tim rubbed his eyes. This was going to be a long night.

He threw his spear into the water. ‘‘Yes!’’

Ah, he was getting the hang of it. He pulled his spear and smiled seeing his catch.

The fish tossed around trying to escape. Tim snapped his fingers and slowly roasted his meal.

He sunk his teeth into his first caught fresh fish. The night was not too bad now that he had caught his first fish.

This would be a night he would never forget. He’d have to warn the others about the creature that lurked in the woods.

#FirePower

17th May, 2020~ Sunday.

Wrapped in bed sheets like a burrito

dancing thoughts keep me awake,

backward existence where problems

of my world are solved and creativity

blossoms into mirrored reflections.

Blankets welcome me as family

morning arrives too soon

wish I could sleep until noon

nighttime ideas are weighing me down

I struggle out of bed and start coffee

prop up eyelids and start to jot

my solutions from the night before

on tiny paper scraps before I forget

this is going to be another crazy day

a turned around day of imagination.

A reason to get up in the morning.

There once was a scientist named Bellows,

he did research in Antarctica with other fellows.

Between layers of earth in the permafrost ice,

they discovered living bacteria so very precise.

Bellows stroked his beard and laughed savagely -

he knew the bacteria was key to immortality.

But how could he possibility smuggle it from view

with the other scientists trying to snatch it too?

Well, Bellows liked jello, unlike the other fellows,

he liked all flavors but was partial to lemon yellows.

But he knew using cherry red, it’d be easier to hide

so he scooped up the bacteria and hid it inside.

Bellows iced down the jello and laid it on dry ice,

absconded with the bacteria without thinking twice

for he knew this bacteria was unlike any other -

it had arsenic inside, not phosphorous or another.

Bellows extracted the bacteria from red cherry jello

and injected it into himself, feeling quite mellow,

knowing full well that it was alternative life form,

believing it would extend life above the norm.

Bellows first had tried it on fruit flies and mice

and on human blood cells more than twice.

When he tried it on himself, he never caught

the flu or colds or diseases others fought.

Bellows never died, he lived longer than wife

and his children and friends without any strife.

But he no longer knew anyone on earth

with alternate life form ingrained in his girth.

Bellows was lonely so he injected some others,

knowing he wanted friends if he had his druthers.

Everyone was now comprised of alternate life forms,

not so alternate any more but more like the norms.

So Bellows and the new experimental fellows

lived on forever thanks to the cherry red jello

with the bacteria which wiggled and jiggled,

danced and pranced and sometimes giggled.

In lakes,

Mirrors on walls,

Puddles on the road,

My life is reflected

A shadow world

In shades of

Greens and blues

Images shattered by

A pebble thrown or

Sudden movement

Perhaps it reveals

More truth than

Life perceived

By my eyes

Flip the hip

let it rip

step to beat

dancing feet

toe tap echo

art deco

more, more

encore

melt in heat

feet fleet

heed the cry

within your blood

kick it high

rhythm found

pulsing sound

emancipate

before too late

body heat

wild feet

in the street.

Mist from frost arises

murmuring sounds from snowdrifts

gift of winter – peace.

* * * * *