Sunday, April 24, 2016

waiting






















with a song it begins,
this incredible sadness,
this bittersweet goodbye,
no matter how far you run,
it always comes back to here;
for everything there is a cost,
for everything there is a loss;
trapped within this wreckage,
hidden among the fading mist,
a price to be paid,
an unanswered question,
an unfulfilled answer;
a beacon for the terminally lost;
this morning,
for the first time in
a long time,
I woke up afraid;
there is an evil lurking here,
floating just below the surface,
an unspoken shadow,
waiting to envelope everything
in its path,
an unseen whisper,
touching depths unknown.
.

.

Anatoly


























I awoke to darkness,
my eyes were open but
they could not see,
my hands could move
but I could not raise
them up;
“help me!” I screamed,
“help me!”
I heard a door open
then close;
“so, you are awake at last”,
a female voice casually
spoke out;
“where am I?” I demanded;
“try to relax Mr. Aleksandar,
you are in a hospital,
you are safe now,
let me check your bandages”;
I felt her soft, warm hands
run lightly around the side
of my head and over my eyes;
“am I blind?” I asked,
without trying to sound afraid;
“the doctors are not sure yet” she replied,
“it’s too early to tell,
your eyes were burned
very badly by the gas,
we will not know just how much
long term damage there is
for a few more days”;
“you are luckier than most” she added,
“why can’t I move my arms?” I asked,
“the doctors wanted your arms restrained,
they knew when you awoke you would most
likely be in a state of panic,
if you promise me you will be a big boy
I will remove the straps”;
I could detect a slight trace of humor
in her voice;
“I will try” I replied;
I felt a slight tugging at my
right arm then my left,
my arms were free,
my first thought was to reach
for my face,
and as if she read my mind
she called out;
“don’t try to remove
the bandages on your face
or I will be forced
to put the straps back on!”
“what of the men who were
with me?”
there was a silence;
“there were a few” she quietly replied,
“most were in worse shape
than you, some died shortly after
they brought them here”
“I’m sorry”, she added;
“the doctors have said you could
have some hot broth if you are up to it,
would you like some Mr. Aleksandar?”
it had been so long since I had heard
a female voice,
I had almost forgotten just how
soothing it could be;
“please” I said, “call me Anatoly”
she didn’t say a word,
but I could feel the smile.
.

.

Death


















he puts the gun to my head,
the fear sets in;
do not be afraid, just believe,”
the voice from behind
quietly whispers;
“look into my eyes,” he says,
“it will make it much easier;”
as I do, the fear passes,
he pulls the trigger,
the light slowly fades,
the darkness grows;
falling;
“I love God,”
“I love Jesus;”
nothing.
.
.

Better Left Unsaid
















there are many things I could say,
a moment in the fading sunlight,
a quiet summer day,
an inner softness,
unexpected beauty,
unguarded, private,
just a passing touch,
revealed from the inside,
but it was enough;
some things are better
left unsaid;
a different time,
a different place,
another life,
things could have
been different,
but the time is now,
the place is here,
the life already lived,
but still,
there will always
be that moment;
some things are better
left unsaid
you walk into my mind,
and the sparks begin anew,
there is a hunger for
everything you,
I want to touch you,
I want to hold you,
I want to be possessed
by you,
I want to pour out
everything that I am,
I want to make you feel
all that I feel;
some things are better
left unsaid.
.

.

Saturday, April 23, 2016

Anyway


























There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love. We love him, because he first loved us.   1 John 4:18-19
In the morning I search for Your light
amidst the pre-dawn blackness,
it burns like a beacon in the night,
showing the way to freedom,
guiding the path to life;
Lord I love You, because
You loved me first,
when I broke Your heart,
You loved me anyway,
when I deserved only punishment,
You loved me anyway,
when I helped nail You to that cross;
You loved me anyway;
I stumble and fall,
You pick me up once again,
I run and hide,
You patiently stand waiting,
I spread seeds of hatred and doubt,
You love me anyway;
no one knows the struggle,
no one understands the darkness,
no one feels the emptiness,
but You;
You loved us anyway.
.

.

Infection


























Jesus looked directly at them and asked. “Then what is the meaning of that which is written: ‘The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone?’ Everyone who falls on that stone will be broken to pieces, but he on whom it falls will be crushed.”   Luke 20:17-18
From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life. Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. “Never, Lord!” he said. “This shall never happen to you!”
Jesus turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men.” Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?”  Matthew 16:21-26
“To face what we are in the end, we stand before the light
and our true nature is revealed. Self-revelation is annihilation of self.”
Kathleen Conklin – ‘The Addiction’
we all stand afflicted,
hopelessly addicted,
ravaged and abused,
scourged and inflicted;
infected by the disease;
we choose this road
because that is who we are,
what we have become,
there simply is no other choice,
no other path;
a leopard cannot change
its spots,
nor can a flea become
a dog;
hopelessly addicted,
infected by the disease;
self-induced delusions,
self-abused illusions,
self-taught dreams,
self-righteous justification;
hopelessly addicted,
infected by the disease.
.

.

Friday, April 22, 2016

At Last



















green, majestic ridges,
rolling lazily, across
bright, blue skies,
too beautiful,
too wonderful;
a place only
dreamed about;
it is here,
where the road ends,
that tomorrow begins,
no more uncertainty,
no more empty future,
the final home,
the last stand;
freedom,
at last;
they have taken,
all there is to take,
the last hope,
the final drop,
nothing more to give,
nothing left to lose;
freedom,
at last;
together, we shall face
the approaching night,
together, we shall walk into
the growing light;
freedom,
at last.
.

.

Monday, April 18, 2016

Home



















sitting in this greasy, all night, Michigan redneck, café
sipping on dark stale coffee,
listening to the local philosophers, as they eat their breakfast,
on their way to dry-walling and other assorted craft jobs,
indoors of course, getting to cold for outside work,
discussing the beating death of a Wyoming fag (their word),
and how the poor ole boys who did it will never get a fair trial,
what with all the negative publicity,
and what is this world coming too,
when you can’t even bash a few fags around
and get away with it,
after all, they was just having a little fun,
they didn’t actually mean to kill the little fucker, chuckles all around;
listening, the thought occurs,
that with just a different twist of fate,
I could be sitting at that table,
with all the other small town know-it-alls,
discussing world politics and Wyoming fags,
and it is only now that I realize,
I don’t belong here anymore,
just as the swamplands and muskrats of south jersey
do not belong here,
this place I once called home, has become just another town,
full of strangers I no longer know,
nor care too;
this place leaves me feeling emptyand impotent;
I think of my wife,
the woman who has been with me
for more years than I once lived in this place,
the woman whose touch still electrifies me,
the woman who has become my one constant,
my only reality,
the one thing I can depend on,
together we have built a new home,
she is where I belong;
she is my home.
.

.

than you


















I have written many things in my life,
thought many thoughts,
fantasized many fantasies,
dreamed many dreams;
but none of them
are more important
than you;
I have written of imaginary lovers
and foolish ideas,
all of which
seemed so important,
but were nothing,
nothing at all,
compared to the love
that we share,
you are the reality,
which has kept me holding on,
for more years
than I can remember,
yours is the touch
I long to feel,
the voice
I long to hear,
at the end of the day
when nothing seems real,
when nothing is true,
as all the thoughts and ideas
go drifting away,
like smoke
from a burning campfire,
you are the part of me
I can never let go,
no matter how hard
this need to destroy
everything that I touch
has tried;
there is no one
I would rather be with,
than you.
.

.

Saturday, April 16, 2016

Mass Production




















what?
do you think I can produce this shit
upon demand?
like some trained circus seal;
this stuff comes and it goes,
sometimes it’s here, and
sometimes it isn’t,
and when it isn’t,
I don’t even try,
and when it is,
I usually don’t try then either,
it makes for a very small window
to work within;
a lot of variables and intricate decisions;
many cold and sleepless nights go by,
with nothing to show
except sweat soaked t-shirts,
as it gets harder and longer,
to make this journey
into dark and angry worlds,
where only the flip side exists,
leaving a little something behind every time;
sometimes I am left feeling
it is only a step away;
surrounded by this grand illusion,
sinking deeper into the confusion of it all,
desperately hanging on
to the one thing that is left,
while screaming for the strength to let go;
just once.
.

.

Dog Shit and Other Saturday Morning Rituals





















in the morning, we awake to
dog shit on the kitchen floor,
Cody, our family dog is getting old,
he can no longer control his bowels,
this is not the first time;
“that dog has got to go!!” cries my wife,
I suppose she’ll want to get rid of me too,
when I start shitting on the kitchen floor;
upstairs, my grandson
watches Saturday morning cartoons,
Hercules or some other super hero, I think,
when it is over, he and I will go to McDonalds,
for out ritual hotcakes and sausage,
he usually eats all the sausage and
about a quarter of the hotcakes,
I eat the rest,
I think that is my role in life now,
to finish eating what he cannot,
someday he will grow up and eat
everything on his plate;
I suppose I will starve to death then;
elsewhere my 15 year old,
comes bursting through the kitchen door,
fresh from spending the night
at her best friend’s house;
“watch the dog shit!” I cry out,
“Ooooooh! Gross!” she replies,
then bounds up the stairs to her room,
where she will sleep most of the day,
after being up all night
talking to boys on the phone;
she thinks I don’t know about these things;
meanwhile, I get out the paper towels and lysol
to clean up Cody’s shit,
who looks at me
with deeply apologetic eyes;
“It’s ok” I tell him;
“we’re all getting old.”
.

.

Dream Traveler






















she sleeps,
and I patiently wait,
somewhere,
just on the edge
of hidden dreams,
searching for just a small glimpse,
of far off valleys
and delicate hills,
caressing
soft blue skies,
gently touching
her warm,
sweet body,
protecting her,
as she travels
across new frontiers;
she is beginning to make
a believer
out of me.
.

.

All The Days of My Life


























purify me O Lord,
like gold in the refining furnace,
remove the iniquities and impurities,
make me shine like a jewel,
fill me with Your precious fire,
let me reflect the glorious light
that comes from You,
help me to overcome this body of flesh,
so desperately trying to drag me back
into the filth and perversion,
of the dark and lonely prison
You have freed me from;
praise Your magnificent mercy
and grace;
give me victory, over the enemy
who would destroy all that is
perfect and pure,
save me from the illusions and lies
that blind and deceive,
prepare me for the coming battle;
bring me home to You;
teach me O Lord,
Your holy and righteous ways,
lead me down mysterious paths,
mold the desires of my heart,
guide me into the center of Your will,
be my Master and my King,
let me serve You faithfully;
for all the days of my life.
.

.

Through You

























I come before You Lord,
broken and corrupt,
a lowly lump of clay,
ready to be shaped by Your
blessed and holy hand;
teach me Your ways,
that I may walk in them forever,
show me Your truth,
that it might be engraved in my soul,
immerse me in Your love and grace,
that I might find life more abundant,
shine Your light before my eyes,
that they may be blind no more;
through You are all things made new,
through You are all things possible,
through You do we find strength,
through You do we have hope.
.

.

Slave


























As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had been demon-possessed begged to go with him.  Jesus did not let him, but said, “Go home to your family and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.”  So the man went away and began to tell in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him.  And all the people were amazed.   Mark 5:18-20
all my life I have been a slave,
all my life I have been lost,
all my life I have served unseen masters,
all my life I have been a prisoner;
sexual perversions and lust,
spiritual darkness and depravity,
financial debt and personal greed,
unjustified hatred and anger,
fantasies and delusions of grandeur,
vanity and self-induced egotism,
malicious slander and vicious lies;
sacrificially raped,
silently abused and self-tortured,
steadily stripped of all dignity and self-worth,
repeatedly robbed of confidence and truth,
slowly losing any faith or trust,
then You reached out Your mighty hand,
pulling me up from these raging seas,
unlocking the door of this forsaken cell,
delivering me from eternal bondage,
opening my blinded eyes;
no longer a victim,
no longer a slave;
now I wait for the day,
when I will be where You are,
sitting at the foot of Your throne,
basking in Your glory and light,
telling the world of Your
mercy and grace;
telling the world what the Lord
has done for me.
.

.

All There Is

























From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him. “You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve. Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”   John 6:66-69
dark clouds on the horizon,
the storm rapidly approaches,
no escape,
no where left to run,
eventually the end
catches us all;
within Your sanctuary
I seek shelter,
to You alone do I run,
You are my safe haven,
You are my only refuge;
You are all there is;
time grows short,
soon there will be
nothing left,
I cannot escape
even if I wanted to,
I wait for the day,
I long to be
where You are,
there is nothing else;
You are all there is;
Lord, I am so lost,
I am so blind,
I am so hopeless,
I am so pathetic,
I am so helpless,
I am nothing
without You;
You are all there is;
You teach me truth,
You cut through all
the hypocrisy and hate,
You give the example;
You are all there is.
.

.

Vapor

























Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.   Matthew 10:29-31
this life is but a thin line of vapor,
disappearing before our blinded eyes,
forever hidden inside the hopeless lies,
where darkness lurks within golden rays
of bright, white, searing light;
truth is meaningless without You;
once again I fail,
once more You pick me up,
once again I stumble and disappoint,
once more You patiently wait;
all I’ll ever need is You;
the voices quietly call,
gently beckoning me into their arms,
swallowed up by the mystery,
vanishing into the hidden shadows;
with You I am not afraid;
thoughts shoot through the endless night,
we will never be the same,
like falling stars fading out of sight,
we can never escape the blame;
monsters of our own doing,
followers of the broken and lost,
creations of false expectations,
we continue to pay the cost,
only You can save us
from the winter’s freezing frost;
like vapor we fade, never to rise again,
not knowing where we’re going,
not knowing where we’ve been,
empty shells growing weary and tired,
silently screaming deep from within,
yet every hair is numbered,
and not a sparrow falls without Your will;
I am ready to come home to You.
.

.

Teach Me

























“I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.” John 15:5
“For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” Matthew 16:25
You are perfection,
in a sea of turmoil and confusion,
You are mercy and love,
in a world that is blind,
all my righteousness and works
are but filthy rags,
before Your glorious throne,
break me into pieces,
that I might be reformed
in Your holy and wondrous image,
remove all that I am,
that I might stand
before Your magnificent presence,
destroy this creation called self,
seeking to raise itself above
the honor and glory that is Yours alone;
teach me how to die,
that I might live;
You shine like a mighty light
amidst the darkness and gloom,
You are a drop of cool water
on the lips of a dying man,
You are the spring from which
living waters flow,
You are the bread of life
which comes down from heaven,
You are the vine,
I am the branch,
within You
I can do all things,
without You
I am nothing;
teach me how to die,
that I might live.
.

.

Naked

























When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it. Then the eyes of both of them were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves. Then the man and his wife heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?” He answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.” And he said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree I commanded you not to eat from?”              Genesis 3:6-11
“You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see. Those to whom I love I rebuke and discipline. So be earnest and repent. Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him and he with me.”   Revelation 3:17-20
once more you open my eyes,
showing me just how blind
I really am,
how wretched, pitiful and poor
I have become,
revealing the evil lurking inside,
uncovering all the filth,
the inadequacies,
the incompleteness,
the nakedness;
Lord I am so far away!
I hear Your voice,
softly counseling,
gently rebuking,
quietly disciplining;
reminding me of the path
which leads to You;
Father, remove this darkness once again,
heal the wounds as only You can,
renew all that I am,
fill me with Your precious Holy Spirit,
bathe me in Your glorious light;
make me a son
of the living God.
.

.

grieve

























I would do it;
but the finality of it all
stands in the way;
the uncertainty;
the hesitation;
sometimes I think,
this is the way it should be;
all the time;
beyond feeling,
beyond caring,
beyond knowing,
beyond rewrites and
perfection,
beyond judgment,
beyond misery,
beyond charades,
beyond lies,
beyond self-delusion;
beyond love and fantasy,
beyond wondering and doubt;
beyond self;
every denial demands
atonement,
every question requires
an answer,
for every gift
there is a price,
for everything worth having
there is a cost;
I wish it were not so,
I wish there was another way;
madness rules,
darkness lights the way,
at the end of the day,
You are all that is left.
there are things
bigger than ourselves,
beyond thinking or reason,
there are things that
matter most,
there are things that define
who we are,
the miles go by,
the years pass,
the end is near;
soon enough,
soon enough;
this poverty has
another face,
another kind of soul,
quiet and alone,
frightened and confused,
suicide can be so blind,
nothing more than
a whisper,
spitting and sputtering,
laughing and pretending;
you cannot love anyone,
until you have learned
to grieve for everyone.
.

.

All I want

























the world as we know it
is ending,
all the fear,
all the worry;
gone;
my life goes by,
I eat,
I sleep,
I work,
I laugh,
I scream,
I find fault,
I point fingers,
I criticize;
I am right,
I am wrong,
I am filthy rags,
I am nothing;
all I want
is You;
look down on me now,
see the hope
growing inside,
see what no one else
can see,
see beyond the façade,
see beneath the veneer,
see that all I want
is You;
reach out Your mighty hand,
pull me from this pit,
save me from the enemy,
waiting to conquer and destroy,
remove all the iniquities and impurities,
help me rise above the stench and filth,
let all the world see;
all I want
is You.
.

.

Friday, April 15, 2016

fading fast

























I sleep a sleep that is no sleep,
I live a life that is no life,
I die a death that is no death,
I dream a dream that is no dream;
I am fading fast;
all my life I have been trying to write
the ultimate line,
the perfect poem,
the last word,
the final solution;
there is nothing left;
I am tired,
everyday is the same old thing,
words nauseate me,
food and breathing
seem like unnecessary burdens,
my guts are rotting from the inside out,
my teeth are grinding into dust,
my brain is turning to mush,
my cock a useless piece of string,
I am sick of objects,
repulsed by their touch,
their sight,
I want to walk naked into the desert,
no destination,
no return,
I want to write words that will bring
tears to a blind man,
I want to dance with queens and
other fantasies,
run with wolves and ghosts,
I want to slip quietly away,
like a beast in the night,
I am fading fast.
.

.

What We Are





















into nighttime dreams
you come,
soft and warm,
young and sweet,
a gentle reminder,
that once there was life,
once there was more
than met the eye,
proud and unwavering,
a warrior ready for battle,
full of strength and tomorrow;
now I can only remember,
now I can only dream;
these years slowly pass,
what pompous,
self-righteous creatures are we,
climbing slippery slopes,
passing judgment,
determining sentence,
drawing lines in the sand,
never seeing beyond all
that we know,
never knowing more
than what we are;
forever trapped,
behind these bars
of flesh and blood;
words come slow,
out here in this forgotten land,
I sleep a sleep
that is no sleep,
I live a life
that is no life,
I die a death
that is no death,
darkness fills the void,
the world goes on,
despite the absence,
bubbling to the surface
in spite of the loss;
is it really just pretend?
is it really something more?
.

.

War




















Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.   Ephesians 6:10-12
all around the battle rages,
the enemy silently waits,
unseen, unknown,
beyond sight,
beyond touch;
beyond understanding;
slaves to all that we see,
all that we hear,
all that we feel;
yet we see nothing,
we hear nothing,
we feel nothing;
mirrors and smoking guns,
illusions and disappearing truths,
cheap parlor tricks played out
on morning talk shows,
here today,
gone tomorrow,
the war never ends;
the enemy never sleeps.
.

.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

This Dream


















the moments come and go,
just a different twist,
a fairer fate,
another turn,
a better choice,
life and death,
darkness or light,
nothing and everything,
something else;
we come so close;
83 dead,
the silence shattered,
as the gunman reloads,
Louisville in mourning,
there are things never
forgotten;
who is to say?
who is to know?
does it never end?
the sun rises,
a new day’s heat begins,
suffocating and choking,
flesh melting like
yesterday’s butter,
chard and putrid,
fresh rubber sizzling
like bacon in grease
on the soft asphalt surface,
one more on the road,
out of the frying pan
and into the fire;
another one tastes the dust;
take it away,
let it be no more,
bring about an end,
take it from my eyes,
take it from my mind,
this whisper,
this hush;
this dream.
.
.

Desperation


























now the end may begin,
lost in this swirling
world of never,
eyes dressed incognito,
egos disguised by humility,
enemies in the shape of friends,
make for the worst
of them all,
you never see them coming
until they have passed you by;
and by then,
it is always too late;
the movement continues
like liquid wildfire,
consuming all there is,
right or wrong hanging within
a delicate balance,
fools following forsaken
roads of folly,
on their way to this or that,
innocence never the issue,
something for nothing,
one for all,
everything for anybody,
some things for nobody;
this garden no longer grows,
fruit lies dying on the vine,
hope has no future here,
fertility fails,
fixations no longer provide a thrill,
sinking deep into the
oblivion below,
sink or swim,
desperation makes a strong argument
for justification,
survival separates the living
from the dead;
words once spoken,
can never be returned.
.

.

numb


























The sun will be turned to darkness and the moon to blood before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the LORD. And everyone who calls on the name of the LORD will be saved.   Joel 2:31-32
For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile – the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him, for, “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”   Romans 10:12-13
the numbness grows;
I fight,
I flex,
I stretch,
I rub,
still it grows;
it’s like sinking
in quicksand;
I should not complain,
yet still I complain,
I should not criticize,
yet still I criticize,
I should not judge,
yet still I judge,
I should not hate,
yet still I hate,
I should not speak,
yet still I do;
what hope is there
for one such as I?
Your law is light,
Your yoke is truth,
Your garments are righteousness,
Your path is faith,
Your garden is love,
You have taken away
the darkness and despair,
I have called upon Your name,
and You have heard;
I was dead,
now I am alive.
.

.

you'll never know





















you’ll never know
how much there was,
hidden inside with all the other
unseen baggage and trash,
collected over a lifetime
of useless dreams and
sentimental nonsense;
you’ll never know;
the vultures circle above,
waiting for the moment
to arrive,
they hear the sound,
they understand the fear,
they taste only tomorrow,
yesterday is dead and gone,
today but a mystery,
locked within distant shadows,
without form or shape;
you’ll never know;
you’ll never know
where tears go,
when they can no longer
be cried,
how daytime light,
disappears into
unending shadows
of approaching night,
why noises within the darkness,
turn suddenly silent at the
approaching madness;
you’ll never know.
.

.

Gas


















then came the gas,
silent and deadly,
just a soft whump here,
a thump there,
followed by
swiftly rolling fog,
at first we weren’t even sure
what was happening,
many started dropping
before the thought
of donning a mask could
even be thought;
it seemed like such an ironic,
cruel twist of fate,
to have come so far,
only to be destroyed by
such a thing as this;
everywhere men lay choking,
gasping for breath,
their faces twisted in deadly
agony,
those who managed
to put on their masks
powerless to help,
the burning of skin,
hardly noticed by the joy
of protected lungs and
internal organs,
from this slow and
evil death;
I thought of Tukarov,
I thought of my wife,
I thought of innocent little girls,
lying cold and limp in my
trembling arms,
I thought;
such a waste,
such an incredible,
stupid waste;
who has won?
who has lost?
all I could do
was cry.
.

.

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