i can cheat myself around it

deny it

say chicago and california are just

too far apart

and besides, it's all fairytales, anyway.

i can lie there in your arms

falling slowly through your ribs, heart to heart,

and say that i can stand up anytime i want.

i would be wrong.

i dont think im ok anymore

i used to be a whole

but each day puts more of a chip in me

i used to scoff and say that ill always be fine

but now im not so sure

and im typing this in my bedroom

and if anyone comes in and asks

"what are you doing"

ill respond

"nothing"

and if you ask why there's scratches on my hand

ill make up some excuse like

"my dog scratched me"

and if you ask me if im ok

i will never ever say

"no"

because i dont want to be more

of a burden,

a weight to carry,

than i already am

it used to be so easy

but now even waking up is a battle

and every little jab at me

no matter how well meant

is one more piece in the pile

i dont even understand

i seem to have it all

so why do i want it all

to end?

Ethan stepped slowly into the house. The chilled air made goosebumps form up and down his arm. The frigid air in the house, unusual for July, only made him smile. He knew she was here again. When Ethan bought this house he never expected the added benefit of finding his one true love.

Ethan spent almost all his time at home now. He barely hung out with his friends. Ethan’s family barely spoke to him anyway, but now he stopped trying to reconnect with them. She was all he needed. She promised him that after tonight they could be together forever. Ethan walked upstairs to his bedroom. After changing out of his work clothes and into something nicer, he went back downstairs and waited for her to appear to him.

She appeared in front of Ethan and he stood to greet her. “Emily, my dear, I’ve looked forward to tonight for a long time now. I’m so happy you finally agreed. Take me, my love. Take me. I belong to you and you to me. Let’s join together forever, my sweet. I love you with all my heart.” He leaned forward as if to kiss her.

Emily leaned into Ethan’s kiss. Her ghostly lips lightly touching his. She lifted one translucent hand to his face, caressing him. Ethan’s lips and cheek went ice cold. As the ghost continued the kiss, Ethan felt the warmth draining from his entire body and he welcomed it. The feeling of cold was gone. For the first time, Ethan felt Emily’s warm breath on his face. He leaned in and their kiss deepened. Breathless, he pulled back. “This is amazing. I can feel you now, not just the cold. I love you so much, Emily.”

Emily smiled, and for the first time, she was able to speak to him. “We can be together forever now, Ethan, my love. Let’s go upstairs and celebrate.” She grinned at him and winked. Ethan took her hand and the two ghosts floated up the stairs. Behind them, the corpse of Ethan Miller lay on the floor of his living room.

we were not made to thrive in darkness,

so I take your hands in mine

and place into them

light.

so that you may hold it close and allow it to

seep

into every part of you

every last inch

every dark corner.

and the next time your hands

collide

with someone else's,

I pray that you would pass on that light too.

Hey, I love you... but we're done.

Dating you has not been fun.

It's over. It's settled. Bye!

Don't call... or cry.

You'll be okay,

One day.

Maybe....

Here is Ethyl Bromide. She's very nice. She'll take hold of your mind, make you feel welcome, and smile. You'll be taken in soon, at least for a while. She knows just what to quip to make you believe Everything's going to be alright. 

You won't be tempted to denounce her as politic. Yet she seems to know some kind of rules of the game, a code of conduct we've come to anticipate, of what to do, or what to say... Boundaries; a social contract; ethics... Ethos... She understands you almost too well. 

Like a charm or a spell... she seems to be slowly crossing some kind of line, because you're steadily getting very tired, sedate, like something is lulling your brain... and it won't be long now before you're so far gone you won't be able to tell whether you were really treated well or not.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Author's Notes: These are the definitions that guided my thoughts for this write...

* Ethic: the word at the root of"Ethical," refers to morals, principles, conduct...

* Ethical: Oxford Dict. defines strictly, by single definition, as "n.; (of medicine or drug) not advertised to the general public, and usu. available only on doctor's prescription."

* Ethically: an adverb may apparently be applied in the context of Ethic or Ethical.

#WhatIsEthical? #Challenge

<font face="Helvetica" size="3" color="silver">01.28.2018</font>

For most of my life, I have wondered why

my parents had the gall to dub me Guy.

Just because it was my grandfather's name

didn't mean they had to call me the same.

It is like my folks never stopped to think.

(I'd get it if they'd had too much to drink.)

Did they ever consider how it'd be

every time someone said 'Hey, Guy' to me?

I might question if they're calling me that

to hide they've gone empty under the hat.

And I wouldn't dare use 'Guy' when I draw a blank.

(One more flaw for which I've got my parents to thank.)

Well, at least I'm grateful I don't feel like a freak.

I know a poor girl whose parents named her Unyque.

It's a renown I had to grow into.

Kids shunned me because I wasn't the same.

Yet I learned to tell the kind from the cruel

by how others reacted to my name.

Some accused me of being conceited,

as if I had declared myself unique.

I know everybody is different,

although it's oneness that all of us seek.

I'm not sure what my parents were thinking.

In spite of their choice, I'm sure they meant well.

Still, the moniker they burdened me with

has sometimes made my life a living hell.

I chose to forgive them for the faux pas.

I forget the last time it made me cry.

But I wish people could see what I say

when I explain, "It's Unyque with a why?"