silence
Silence is the most important thing
It's what renders headphones
and earbuds
and headsets one of the
greatest
inventions of the modern world
The ability to enjoy entertainment
without disturbing those
around you
Silence
It's important to know this about it
cuz unfortunately some of
the lessons
about the importance
of silence
are taught by the most
extreme teachers
Myself and a friend of mine had been
taught the lesson by such a teacher
We were twelve and thirteen
and he got a new gaming console for
his birthday and we spoke with another
friend to lend us a cool game,
some shooter
I stayed over the night
and we started playing
and the TV was quite loud
The game was fun
We were loud
and there were bangs and explosions
and guns firing and screams and flashes
and suddenly
the door of the bathroom bangs
open with a kick and my friend's
grandfather storms into the room
with froth about his bleached lips and
he grabs my friend's arm, twists, and
pins him to the ground and holds him there
as he looks around the room with crazed eyes,
more scared than both my friend and I
I think what's worse
is that the old man was previously
on the toilet
using it
and he got up without wiping
or washing his hands
and came into our room like that
My friend's father came when he heard
the commotion and
dragged the old man away
and left us mute
and shaken
we didn't say a word until he
came back a few seconds later
and lectured us about PTSD
but I guess the real moral of the
story is that silence is important
and headphones are really one of
humanity's greatest inventions
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the stress was messing with
her periods
so she got even more
stressed as a result
Oh, and that guy she met
through the dating app, he considered
himself catfished. Why?
She looked like
in the
pictures. No difference.
More stress...
It all started with the premature
death of her
mother
And then there was
the messy divorce and all that
But she didn't wanna think
about it
There was only one way to cope
with the stress
She sat on the couch
and turned the TV on
and got the
nail clippers out of her makeup kit
and used
them to chip pieces of skin
off her knuckles
and then chew them like sunflower seeds
it worked wonders
as a stress relief technique
The skin of her
hands looked very much like
Swiss cheese but
the dents were rimmed with redness
She watched her hands
as she chewed on the pieces of skin
and then it hit her
"Oh God! I'm such
a dumbass. I forgot to take off my
wedding ring.
No wonder the guy considered
himself catfished. He
saw my hands and
thought I was some unhappy
wife looking for hookups. Oh dear..."
but what if it was
all a dream?
All a nightmare
What if he wasn't just a construction worker
who fell from the
scaffold and couldn't get up
and was in incredible pain from the torso up
because he had no more feeling below?
If this was all a dream
all a nightmare
and he was no construction worker barely
making ends meet
then his wife did not divorce him
a few weeks ago
and she did not take the kids
and she did not have another man in her life
If it was all a dream
a nightmare
then
he did not
just
jump to his death
If it was all a dream
a nightmare
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he was a very old dog and
he left hairs everywhere he sat
yet despite all that
she let him sleep in the bed besides her
Only because her family
said it was wrong
By definition
everything those people called wrong
was right and vice versa
So the old dog slept with her
The old dog was all she
had left
The old dog was the only one who
stood by her side
that time she overdosed on sleeping pills
The old dog was the only one
who didn't agree with mother when
she said, "Oh joy, another suicide attempt.
I wish she'd succeed at
something for once in life but…
well, no such luck, I guess."
The old dog had died
four days ago
but she still kept him in bed
besides her
He kept coming back
That was his only skill
Respect is not something you can possibly
be born with. The children of
kings and lords
should know this
but most don't
Though this kid who kept coming back
he was no one's son
A vagabond
His body bony in all places
no meat
under the skin
A skin that had all the colors
from pale to yellow to blue to
crimson to pitch black
dirty
scarred
sore
and something that looked
like bone peeking out of tissue
He got beat up every time he came to the
fighting pit behind the tavern
Never won a fight against
those well-fed, bulky sons of farmers
and blacksmiths and butchers
with puffy arms and wide napes
They fought mostly for respect
and the money was a side prize
But the bony boy
came only for the money
and he never got any
But he never begged in the marketplace either
The bony boy had
a pride about him
a pride that never left until the day
he could no longer stand in the fighting pit
after that fatal blow
It wasn't even that much of a strong hit
but his neck was so weak
it snapped
And they gathered in a circle
around him
mute
and stared
stared until their backs felt brushed,
shoved to the side by a pair of
hands weaker even than the bony boy's
Softer
"That's his little sister,"
someone said as they all moved
aside and let her reach the
bony boy,
crying
"So it's her that he fought for
all this time."
"Yes."
"And he kept coming back
every time."
"Yes."
"Insane."
"Wah, respect for the little guy."
"You know what, boys,
I think we should do it.
Give the little girl the prize money."
"Yeah."
"Though this ain't no fantasy land
and no poem.
So, no poem, no poetic justice.
We'll give the girl the prize money alright,
but she'll have to earn it.
Hopefully doing a better job than
her brother."
"Yeah, girl, just like your brother,
come back every time you need money.
Unlike him
you'll get it.
You really will."
"Right, now off with those
rags and let your fight begin.
I'll go first."
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It's the little things that tell
the difference
but many times there's no observer
to notice them
Little things like
ignoring all the beer in the fridge
and going straight for the cupboard
where the tea bags
stood untouched for years
Chamomile
Caramel
Pear
A fine combination
He took out one little bag
and filled the kettle with water
and placed it on the electric stove
and looked out the window
while waiting for the steam to whistle
Rainy weather outside
Overcast weather inside, in his heart
Also he had no smokes left
and no one to smoke them with
so he took the lighter from inside his
pocket and lit it
against the glass of the window
and said to the flame, "You said
you'd leave. But you
never left. It was a lie. Else why do
I feel you closer now than when your
body stood right next to mine? Doesn't
make sense. You never left…"
The glass started to blacken around
the flame and he retreated it
"You never left," he said. "You are so close
now and had taken over so much
of my mind that I started doing
the things
you loved and I hated."
The kettle whistled
behind him
He turned around.
"You never left…"
Daydreaming as a profession 