kayakndan's profile

           Doctor Varner patted me forlornly upon my wrist and gave me a pained smile. The smile was a well-practiced and probably well-used expression of dignified attention to the prescribed details involved in one’s pending demise. It was a fake, I was sure. But I had long since given the man the benefit of the doubt in regards to his prowess and candor. He had done what he could; it was not enough. The simple sigh and smile routine w...

A Country Song When you sing a song of revelry, hum that giddy tune for me, for soon I shall be leaving- the caged bird fluttering free. Cry not when my wings feel the air towards Heaven my eyes are fixed, I'll hug you when you greet me there if you stay away from the devil's tricks. My number's been called and we lived it all and for that a man's gotta pay his bill eventually. Been blind for so long, out from dusk till dawn, Think someone I haven't talked to much is ready to be a-calling...

Thigh-Deep in Aimless Thought The river splits around the implacable man. Solid he stands against the pressure the angry current failing against the thighs unsteady stones wildly tumbling asunder yet firm beneath his felt feet- the impotent granite unable to shake its mortal captor. There are no trevails, no details out standing thigh-deep in aimless thought. Hours lost flailing the bound feather, stitched steel and impaled fur sent adrift. Sun nor cloud of no significance. He and the rippl...

Dreams are the best I can conjure now. The faded Tabasco tie stifles any recollections. Any hint of a concise instant of my past now as unattainable in my head as they are to grasp in my calloused hands. Friends long since folded into the fray and dead. The web, though world wide, never sticky enough to bind us shoulder to shoulder. Somewhere their rapturous spirits are mere mortar for brick walls that divide us from the loving bedrock and the insanity that launched us occasionally from mort...

Dreams are the best I can conjure now. The faded Tobasco tie stifles any recollections. Any hint of a concise instant of my past now as unattainable in my head as they are to grasp in my calloused hands. Friends long since folded into the fray and dead. The web, though world wide, never sticky enough to bind us shoulder to shoulder. Somewhere their rapturous spirits are mere mortar for brick walls that divide us from the loving bedrock and the insanity that launched us occasionally from mort...