i've seen you

i've seen you dance when clouds were white
i've seen you chance to face your fright
i've seen you stare into the light
i've seen you dare to do what's right

i've seen you clean your soul up good
i've seen you preen the best you could
i've seen you glare into the wood
i've seen you care as people should

i've seen alot, this much we see
but not your balls, quite thankfully

movin' on up

Jonah was confident in the life he was leading. He thought there was was meaning, direction, and a computer mouse that would carry him through to the Armageddon. Then something changed. Someone new walked on stage. A girl. A gifter.

She liked Jonah and smiled when they were together. A frown quickly formed, however, when she tried to befriend his mouse. Its click wheel, the heart and soul of the modern mouse, was unresponsive. She rolled it and spun it then sighed when the pages on the screen did not act as she was directing them.

She decided a new mouse was in order. No one, she thought, should have to live such a savage existence as her poor Jonah.

And Jonah was thankful. It was a warm gesture and represented a token of her caring and affectionate nature towards him. But he thought it was a bit superfluous. He was accustomed to his mouse and knew ways to get around its shortcomings. They'd'd been through so much together that he felt terrible just casting it off to the side. Surely this was no way to treat a friend.

Then the new mouse came and she handed it over with a room-lighting smile. Jonah took it with fear, trepidation and, dare I say it? Excitement. The picture on the box made the mouse look sleek. Stylish. It had curves and technologies his old one couldn't even imagine. Maybe, just maybe, this upgrade was long overdue.

The first meeting was nothing special. Jonah and the mouse shared some moments but it was a pretty surface interaction. No serious bonding took place. Then, this evening, after installing the proper drivers and giving the new relationship a chance, something happened. Something magical.

Web pages flew by with a swipe of his finger. Jonah's thumb, a useless appendage on his old mouse, now had the power to bring up his desktop and widgets, and it showed him every open window at once. The scroll-wheel was buttery goodness with the option for tactile rolling or a free-wheeling spin. The joy this choice has brought left Jonah speechless.

He hadn't wanted a new mouse but, once they got to know each other, he realized he needed it. And her.

6 more sentences

It's the tale of a man who sits by himself. This is not one of those man vs nature things, though it can be argued that there exist hints of nature vs nurture. And who doesn't love that particular conflict? I know I do. So do lots of English professors. But I digress when I should, instead, be directing you here.

A change for the better

It’s not a big change. In fact, one could comb my apartment for hours and not be able to say what’s different from yesterday to today. It’s a tiny thing. A minor thing. A thing so small and insignificant that it could be shrugged off.

It’s a toothbrush.

That's it. A toothbrush.

A toothbrush with a purple handle and yellow bristles that wiggle violently when a button is pushed.

By itself, the toothbrush is shit. It’s just one more inanimate object in an apartment filled with crap, junk, and whiskey. But it’s the significance of the toothbrush that makes all the difference.

You see, the toothbrush isn’t mine.

i see red

when i was young and looked ahead
i never saw the color red
but it's not like i saw instead
some bubbly blonde there in my bed.

i guess that i was color blind
and simply hoped that i would find
the one who'd with a wink spellbind
and hold me with her razor mind.

they say just ask and you'll receive
and now with her i do believe
that happiness i may achieve
as we're ensconced in dreams we weave.

six sentences

It's a story told in exactly six sentences. It involves two characters. There is a beginning, a middle, and an end. Car chases don't play a part and you won't find a single explosion. There is, however, the faintest hint of sex. Get in on the action by reading it here.

searching for an old friend

And here I sit,
ten after three,
but still the words
don't come to me.

I'm pushing hard,
they're pushing back,
they make me doubt
I've got the knack.

Or maybe I
once had this gift
but lack of use
has caused a rift

between the voice
I used to hear
and now the one
that won't appear.

It's like it's scared
to see the light
or of the storm
it could ignite

or maybe it
was never there.
Was it a wish
I dreamed to dare?

"But I'll push on
and persevere,"
I say and try
to sound sincere.

But I'm not fooled.
How could I be?
For still my page
remains empty,

and still the voice
I'm searching for
remains a myth
in my own lore.