Skip to main content

Poem Won


One day, I'm going to get out of here, and I will not care about the money.
And one day, when I have no money, I will give no money to my loans and to my pain,
and one day they'll jail me for defaulting.
And one day I will get out, and I will still give no money to those loans and to that pain,
and one day, they will throw back in again.
And one day I will get out, and I will still give no money to them,
and to IT.
And one day, they'll throw me back again,
and one day I'll die in jail.
And I'll smile, and I'll give them no money no longer.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Krissy's Second Visit

Youthful footsteps echoed throughout the store's frozen section. It is not often a challenge to determine one's age from footsteps. The slow, stumbling walk of an old man, and the tap of his walker or cane, gives him away immediately. A hop and a skip might reveal that one is a child. But in the ages between 12 and 60, there is a singular type of step, one which is not easily linked to age due to the variance in height and weight of the teenage and adult population. In the cold of the frozen section, this uniformity was slimmed even further, because nothing leeches strength from the heart and legs like cold. But in the footsteps of the confident young girl who wore a Sun Valley uniform, one could sense her youthfulness. The cold didn't touch her and she wasn't afraid of it or hateful of it. And so perhaps it was the youthfulness of her step that revealed to the mysterious figure known as the Blue Phantom who it was who came to visit him, in his hidden lair behin...

Horriblis vs. Ab-Horriblis

She didn't make it. On the road trip, that was to say. She sighed and thought about her next chance. Midori wasn't the self-pitying kind. She grieved her lost vacation—again—and got ready to go back up over the top. One day she'd get a chance to relax and solve mysteries. For now, she had to get to keeping the books. She'd been promoted—quite against her will—and now she ran coupons and drawers in the back office. She never got to see this place in any detail before, but now she could see she wasn't missing much. A dry and dusty room, this was—and little else. She reached up to where they kept the SOP manuals. Ugh—that was dusty too. Too dusty, in fact—she hoped this would be up-to-date with their tech. Huh. This wasn't an SOP manual. Unless “Horriblis” had something to do with Sun Valley. She'd never heard of a product by that name, in any case. Nor did she recognize the author. There was no “Angelo” here. Oh well. She set it asi...

How We Stand Today

Y'know, working this job: I don't think I've gone through a single day where someone hasn't interrupted my reading on a break. Like. That's how I spend my breaks. I eat, I read. I go to the bathroom if it's available, which it is occasionally. But I read. I read as much as I can. I read whole websites worth of short stories and reviews, I bring books in when I'm confident that no one will try to rob me. And every. Single. Time. I am interrupted. Sometimes it's a forgivable attempt to build up friendship, albeit a misguided one. The guy who sat way too close to me, and folded his newspaper on top of my book to ask me to do a crossword with him? He was just trying to be nice. The bagger who rants at me unbroken and breathless for all fifteen minutes about all the different computer parts he's bought? He assumes I'm interested, and I'm too anxious to tell him otherwise. But sometimes the interruption gets ridiculous. I remember once when I...