I was told once it is okay to cry,
but when the fluid fell
from the aqueducts around my irises,
I was met with scorn and discontent
for showering those few socialities
around me with the weeping
of pained emotion. Criminalistic
circumstances were the charges
brought forth upon my broken passions,
scattered like an unsolved jigsaw
around the foundations of a life
left floundering in the endless atmosphere
of failed accomplishment
when the crippling strike was struck,
like a deal of vile occurrence
behind the veil of life, I wailed
with an intense suffering, who slips
into the empty void between us
and touches the timeless entity
that is our combined affection,
attempting to dare shatter
that which we have so cautiously
and frequently built upon? There was no response
to these few words, left unheeded,
and before I could announce
an outburst of like intensity, I found myself
spluttering beneath the weight of failure
and a doubt I could never escape from.
SYNOPSIS: Christos, a young man who recently lost his fiancé to an Italian athlete decides to break into her residence to retrieve the wedding ring he gave to her, with the help of a few friends.
A head’s up, this piece contains some explicit coarse language.
Jerry watched the glasses get topped up once more by the barkeep as the sound of roaring laughter and constant profanities filled his ears.
‘Drink up!’ smiled his friend, downing the glass in one gulp.
‘I think you’ve had enough’ stated Jerry, nodding at the barkeep to acknowledge what he’d said, who simply replied with ‘how many fingers am I holding up’, placing three fingers in front of Christos’s face.
‘Ah, twelve?’ questioned Christos as the barkeep smiled. ‘Close enough’ he said, pouring him another shot as Jerry rolled his eyes, unable to believe that a woman could have possibly done this to his friend.
‘She was my life’ said Christos emotionally, chugging the entire glass and indicating for the barkeep to pour him another, Jerry not even bothering to tell him otherwise this time.
Christos downed the glass once more. ‘I was her Orpheus and she was my Eurydice.’
‘It’s no wonder you didn’t last’ said Jerry.
‘But not to worry folks!’ shouted Christos, holding out his hands, ‘for I have a plan!’
‘Here we go’ grunted Jerry, tossing his head back.
‘I’m going to break into my ex-wife’s house and steal all of her jewelry’ smiled Christos.
‘Oh, right, that’s totally going to win her affection back’ said Jerry, clapping his hands. ‘Bravo, bravo!’
‘No, no, it’s not that at all!’ shouted Christos angrily, requesting another top up of his glass before continuing. ‘She ran off with some athletic Eyetie bastard, who runs around on a treadmill all day for a living, when she could have had all this!’ he shouted, thrusting out his hands for all to admire his body.
‘I bet it was a hard decision’ said Jerry, ‘the smell of indecent sweat in exchange for the smell of alcoholic abuse.’
‘I want some compensation for such unnecessary and barbaric treatment. She left me, and I was left humiliated and disgraced’ said Christos, a tear rolling down his face. ‘And the compensation I require is the ring I gave to her in exchange for her promise.’
‘What?’ questioned Jerry. ‘You mean you wish to re-obtain the ring you won in the Kinder Surprise egg?’
‘I didn’t win it!’ shouted Christos. ‘I bought and paid for it with my own blood and sweat, and I believe I deserve it back, along with the rest of her jewelry. Which is why we’re going to break into her crib and snatch it!’
‘I’m all for the snatch part’ commented Jerry. ‘That I could really use right now, but there is no way I’m going with you to Cynthia’s place to steal her jewelry. Now, I don’t care if you paid for it, as soon as you gave it to her, it became hers.’
‘It ain’t gonna be just you and me on this gig’ smiled Christos. ‘I’m bringing Evelyn, my ex-girlfriend along, you know, the woman from way back.’
‘And why do we need her?’ asked Jerry.
‘Because, we need at least one professional on this job’ nodded Christos. ‘Besides, I’m a little terrified of her.’
‘You’re terrified of a woman?’ laughed Jerry. ‘How could you possibly be terrified of a woman? They’re all made up of sugar and other sweet, delicious things.’
‘What the fuck are you doing you dumb son of a bitch!’ roared Evelyn. Now this was the way a real woman behaved. Her mouth salivating, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes a bright red in fury as veins began to protrude from the corners of her pupils. ‘You fuck this up one more time and I’m gonna snap your fucking neck!’ she shouted, the attendant behind the register cowering in terror as he attempted to give her the right amount of change back for the twenty dollar note she had handed him for the packet of tampons she’d purchased, not to mention the several liters of fuel for her ride; a hybrid mustang.
Evelyn’s phone suddenly rang as she flicked it open, grunting ‘what?’ into the receiver before grabbing the man behind the register by the scruff of his neck and holding him over the counter. ‘Swap me out the proper change, or I’m gonna beat the shit out of you, before ripping out your eyes and skull fucking your brain!’ She watched the attendant attempt to procure the change from the register as she nodded in response to the call. ‘Yeah, I can be there’ she said, before putting her phone away and eyeing the attendant coldly.
The correct change was suddenly thrust in her direction as she caught it in mid-air preparing to leave before grunting ‘and one more thing.’ She turned around to the attendant and knocked him out with a right hook to the side of the head, leaping over the register and beginning to empty out the entire till.
Jerry shuffled in the cold, his hands in his pockets as he waited out on the side of the bridge that led towards Cynthia’s house. The ground was frozen in a dense layer of frost as his breath came out before him, his legs shaking in the cold of the night. A pair of headlights were visible on the highway up ahead as Christos’s BMW drove up beside him, the roof being disengaged as his friend smiled up at him. He was not alone however, another man who was considerably plump sitting in the backseat.
Jerry indicated for Christos to exit the car and talk to him in the privacy of the trees, his friend grudgingly following Jerry’s lead.
‘Why do we have to steal your ex-wife’s jewelry when you’re riding around in that piece of ass?’ cried Jerry.
‘I blew all the money on the car’ grunted Christos with a sideways glance as Jerry rolled his eyes.
‘And what about the jolly fat man sitting up back?’ probed Jerry. ‘I thought it was just going to be me, you, and your ex.’
‘Change of plans’ said Christos out from the corner of his mouth. ‘My aunty isn’t going to be home tonight and so asked me to take care of my cousin, Marty. He’s a little slow in the head and needs constant supervision. He has a few strange obsessions and hobbies, so don’t mind him either, and whatever you do, don’t mention we‘re going to steal anything. I have him believing we’re going to Disneyworld.’
‘Right’ nodded Jerry, making his way over to the car. ‘Hey Marty, we’re going to go steal some shit, wanna come?’
‘Awesome’ smiled Marty as Christos gave Jerry a dirty look before grunting ‘would you mind sitting in the back?’
‘Is there anything else you wouldn’t mind me doing?’ barked Jerry. How ‘bout I wipe the windows while I’m at it,’ reluctantly doing as his friend requested.
‘Can you drop something?’ asked Marty as Jerry sat beside him.
‘Oh yeah’ grunted Jerry between clenched teeth, ‘this is going to be a real pleasure cruise’ he said as Christos gave him a look before beginning to drive on towards Cynthia’s place.
Barely twenty minutes later they arrived outside of Cynthia’s. The residence was an extremely gargantuan mansion sitting on top of a large hill overlooking the surrounding plains. A metallic fence ran around the entire property as the three men admired the place. Christos stopped the car as the headlights ran over shapes before him, Evelyn beginning to walk over to them after peering in through the fence at one of the windows, entering the vacant seat up front.
‘Who the fuck is this?’ barked Evelyn, indicating at Marty as Christos said ‘don’t ask.’
‘Glad to meet you again Evelyn’ said Jerry, reaching out his hand as she swiped it away. ‘Don’t touch me!’ she cried. ‘I’m not your whore!’ She calmed down before continuing. ‘I’ve checked the place out. They left a couple of hours ago, so I don’t know how long you have.’
‘You mean you’re not coming?’ questioned Christos in a frightened squeak as Evelyn shook her head. ‘It’s your party.’
‘Jerry?’ asked Christos.
‘Why don’t you ask Marty, he looks as though he’s dying to come in there with you’ retorted his friend.
‘Drop something!’ smiled Marty.
‘And look, he’s already in the mood to vandalise shit’ grinned Jerry as Christos exited the car. ‘Fine, I’ll do it on my own you bunch of pussies’ he grunted, moving towards the gate.
‘Come back over here and say that’ yelled Evelyn. ‘Bitch!’ she muttered, watching Christos make his way over the fence and collapse on the other side before disappearing into the darkness around him.
Ten minutes later Christos had still failed to return, Jerry becoming aggravated in the back seat.
‘Drop something’ said Marty suddenly as Evelyn rolled her eyes. ‘How ‘bout I drop a turd, would you like that!’
‘That would be funny’ commented Marty.
‘Yeah, right on your friggin’ head’ grunted Evelyn as security alarms suddenly began to ring out from the household, a great crashing sound being heard as pieces of glass were showered across the grounds. Christos leapt out from an upstairs window before rolling across the lawn, making his way back over the fence and into the car with a couple of bags tucked under his arms.
‘I got the dough’ he smiled.
‘You got something’ mumbled Jerry, the car beginning to pull out from the house and onto the highway.
The next morning the BMW was parked outside of a McDonald’s drive-in, Marty being left to protect the vehicle whilst the others made their way into the fast food outlet to grab themselves a bite to eat.
A few minutes later as Jerry, Christos and Evelyn walked back into the parking lot they could instantly tell something was terribly wrong. Especially upon discovering the car missing.
‘Did we lock the doors?’ asked Jerry, looking around the parking lot as if hoping to see it parked somewhere else.
‘I don’t know’ stated Christos. ‘But I did leave the keys in the ignition.’
‘Did you happen to leave the engine running as well?’ barked Evelyn. ‘Hell, we should’ve put a sign up saying ‘please steal this car because these barmy shits couldn’t lock the fucking doors!’
‘What about Marty?’ asked Christos.
‘Screw him’ retorted Evelyn, ‘I’d be more concerned about the loot we left him with. And who’s to say he didn’t double cross us?’
‘He can’t drive!’ shouted Christos, Evelyn looking about to take a piece out of him as a police car suddenly drove up beside them, its sirens blaring as two officers sprung out from its interior.
‘Put your hands in the air where we can see them!’ they commanded as Jerry swore under his breath, Christos reluctantly doing as they asked before finding himself with the others in the back of the car.
Christos found himself in the confines of the dark interrogation room which was immediately flooded with light, an officer making her way into the room.
‘We found your car’ stated the officer, sitting down before Christos. ‘We also found your cousin in the back seat. We would have charged him with complicity in your crimes, but he’s been treated leniently because he didn’t know what he was getting himself involved in. Jerry too has been acquitted because it seems he’s quite a pillar of the community, stating he only became involved because he didn’t have the heart to say otherwise. As for Evelyn, she has a rap sheet bigger than my arm, and we just can’t be bothered going through the paperwork to charge her with something else. You however, you’re ours. I went through your file and found your educational statistics.’
‘School’s not for everyone’ stated Christos.
‘Yeah, well who wants a university degree anyway when you can receive an even better education from the Crayon Cabana. It appears you received an even more efficient education from your prior employment as well, the Majister of Meats’. She paused before continuing. ‘You know what I see before me? I see an incompetent individual who no doubt is on his way down to a place I wouldn’t even attempt to imagine. Have you anything to say for yourself?’
Christos grimaced. ‘Did you find the ring?’
SYNOPSIS: A political poem aimed specifically at the Australian Prime Minister
Dear Madam Australian Prime Minister
there are some answers I wish for you to administer
in regards to the questions I have for you.
I have the time, and I certainly hope you have some too
to explain away the actions that you have made this year already and in the past,
and to give me the necessary closure, with the longevity to last.
I want to know why you have made so many changes, political and otherwise. I hope I haven’t alarmed you, nor startled you suddenly with a surprise,
because since I love this sun burnt and ruggedly beautiful country with an intense passion and I live inside her too,
I would like to know the reasons behind many of the changes that have been deliberately orchestrated by you.
Do you believe friendship can exist in the political arena? Do you think your predecessor did at one time?
That is of course before you assassinated him in a way that can only be described as outrageously sublime.
Now with your power reasserted, do you finally believe you have full control?
Do you moreover believe when the next election comes you will decimate the opposition at the polls?
Do you think your cabinet respects you? Do you think the Australian public will?
You have made some extraordinarily disastrous betrayals, which, although powerful are horrific still,
for instance, the carbon tax, which was not supposed to be instigated, or so I hear;
might I ask, is this the end of some massively alarming changes, or just the tip of the political spear?
I would like to know, Madam Australian Prime Minister, in you can we all find trust?
And you might reply ‘well, I am the leader of this great country, so I do suppose you inevitably must.’
Moreover, Madam Prime Minister, how are you adjusting to the life that is political fame?
Do you like that some people wave at you, some shake their heads, and people who didn’t know you now know your name?
Might I ask, how is this on you family? Do they respect each and every one of your decisions?
How will it be for them if this country suddenly falls into chaos or even total recession?
I guess this is one of the more major points I wish to stress; when you make decisions for the people, do you think of your family too?
Is there any available room in this political poem for them as well, or do you wish for me to solely aim all of my questions at you?
Furthermore, do you feel you are developing a paradise? A Garden of Eden? A stereotypical image of Heaven?
Do you think anyone agrees with you? Why don’t we ask leader of the Opposition Tony Abbot, or why not former Prime Minister Rudd, Kevin?
Moreover, some of your opponents have implied that you are some kind of devil,
whilst many of your supporters revere you for being some kind of savior; a heroine; a blessed angel.
Might you please state to me, in your own words, how you would honestly describe yourself?
Are you an honest, decent hardworking woman? Are you secured economically with a good amount of wealth?
It’s just that every year you seem to give yourself another substantial raise,
and journalists and reporters alike explain how you deserve it, along with all our praise.
I just can’t imagine how someone can be worth so much economically.
I mean, what is this? It’s not like the government is in need of a surplus of charity!
Do you provide yourself with every dollar you believe that you deserve? Is several hundred thousand dollars what you believe yourself to be worth?
At the same time on the streets there are people in need of this money, often from the moment of their birth.
This system is a lot like a monarchy, and since I was not born into such luxurious accommodations, I do not get anything.
My friend asks me ‘how much do you think the PM will make this year?’ and I reply, ‘how long’s a piece of string?’
Now, I ain’t asking you to confess all your secrets, but if allowed, which ones could you tell?
Would you reassure me this country is stable, and that we aren’t bound for Hell?
Would you reassure me that you are the one political leader this country truly needs?
Would you truly lay down your life for her? Would you sweat? Would you cry? Would you bleed
until there was nothing else you could honestly do to make this country any more beautiful?
Are you planning for a good many changes ahead for Australia, or are you planning for something really dreadful?
Would you reassure me that everything you have orchestrated is going according to plan?
Would you say to me ‘Derek, I am this country’s only hope. If I cannot do this, I assure you, nobody else can.’
Moreover, what about same sex marriage, or is this a topic for another day?
Would you be more open on the subject if your partner’s daughter were gay?
Do you not believe people should be given the option to love whoever they wish?
Do you not believe lovers should seal their bond with a lovers kiss?
On another note, why is it that all asylum seekers appear to get more rights than what I or anyone else would ever receive?
Why is it they can do almost anything, but I’m not allowed to do what I want to achieve?
Why was the job I recently applied for given to somebody who only just arrived in this country, and who is new to this state?
Is this the new definition of ‘fair’, or am I to always be the Australian too late?
Why does it seem you do not care for people, such as myself, whose family has lived in this country for more than eight generations?
Why does it seem you care more for people who are not even legitimate Australian citizens?
You adjunctively help other countries who are in need, but if the shoe was on the other foot, would they ever help us in return?
I don’t think they ever would. In fact, if this country were on fire, I think they would rather watch us burn.
I realise in the past you have expressed how it is our cultural diversity that makes our country so great,
but did you ever believe that it could breed animosity, fear, paranoia, and even provide the people of this nation with reasons to hate?
There are so many people who cannot marry the ones they love because of the differences in cultural backgrounds.
It is moreover taxing that nobody listens when I complain, but the government drops everything the second an asylum seeker makes a sound.
Furthermore, why is it when Australians are called ‘racists’ you do not hit back and say ‘that’s an outrageous lie’?
If we are such racists, why do we have so many soldiers overseas fighting for peace and prosperity who are doomed to die?
If we are such racists, why does a loving husband with two young children go to stop a war that is not his fight?
Why does his wife, ten months later, if we are such racists, need to explain to her children that daddy won’t be coming home tonight?
If we are such racists, why do we send our heroes to fight beside our American brothers on the front lines?
Why are our brave men and women of the Australian forces dying overseas from bullets, shrapnel and land mines?
I ask you, how many terrorist attacks have been stopped on beloved Australian soil over the past five years?
If we are such racists, who are these extremists who wished to kill thousands of people and leave their families in tears?
Why do you persist the continuation of a war we obviously do not belong in?
Do you feel the deaths of our men and women are on your head? Do you feel the blood of the armed forces running across your skin?
Why do you follow the American President and almost everything he chooses to do?
I never did realise we were the fifty first state of America; instead, I believed our Prime Minister was you.
Do you ask God for His forgiveness, for His solace, for His love before you go to sleep?
Any promises you make in regards to the questions I have asked of you will you forever and always keep?
Honestly, if you could guarantee our future and promise that our lives, you could protect,
you are the one politician, Madam Australian Prime Minister, I would only too gladly reelect.
On another note, what about the growing problems concerning the emergency services?
Can you assure me you could do something about reducing the time it takes for the arrival of ambulances?
What about the underpaid workers and the lacking number of staff maintaining our hospitals?
In regards to this question, before you fathom an appropriate response, do you really have a good rebuttal?
And what about the underperformances of students and teachers at our local schools?
Should students not sparkle with intellect within the classroom like radiant jewels?
In your plans for the future of our country, do any of them concern education?
If the children are our future I feel terrible for the next generation,
who will be unable to read, unable to write and unable to perform basic arithmetic.
Is it just me, or is stupidity becoming a nationwide pandemic?
Do you have a cure? Do you have a plan? Or do you plan to simply watch the problem escalate and grow?
If you want Australians to vote for you I believe you need to let them know
that you care for their concerns, for their children and for the future of this great country.
However, this Q&A of ours, it could never actually happen in reality.
I hope you are not Prime Minister for the power, but the responsibility.
Perhaps there might come a day when you could take the time to answer a question or two for me.
The opinion I have of this country’s government moreover has been jaded and I don’t think it’s that good.
If I’m not the only one believing this, then change is mandatory, and if you can do so, I believe you should.
Until then however I shall wish you luck because I believe you are going to need it in the future.
Disappointment is a terribly ugly disease and I hope you will someday become our one necessary cure.
SYNOPSIS: Explores the final few days in the life of police officer Marcus Lithammer, revealing how it was that he died and the culprit responsible for his murder.
Officer Marcus Lithammer was found dead this morning inside the house of a Mr. Dominic Chase. He died instantly from a bullet to the side of the head, the murder weapon; a magnum revolver located a couple of metres away from the body. Dominic Chase, who is believed to be dealing with psychological issues is the prime suspect in this murder investigation and is still unaccounted for. Dominic’s family has told police they will do everything they can to help bring their son in swiftly and safely. Officer Lithammer, a decorated veteran of the Melbourne police force leaves behind a fiancé.
Fifteen nights earlier:
The sound of the loud bar echoed around me as I shuffled in my chair, staring into the face of the soon to be Mrs. Marcus Lithammer. She had brown shoulder length hair and a spectacular smile. Her teeth were a bright white that was almost artificial in appearance whilst her lips were covered in a bright red lubricant that made them glitter under the lighting from the ceiling above. She wore a fabulous black dress with what looked to be small sapphires located across every inch of its design, the garment placed tightly across her body, revealing all of her curves. She smiled back at me as we shared a toast, downing the drinks in one gulp. I smacked my lips, feeling my revolver pressing up against my lower thigh as I moved it over to the adjacent side. ‘What do you say we call it a night?’ I asked, alternate devious intentions in mind.
‘But it’s not even eleven p.m.’ retorted Abigail. Before she could say anymore her beeper went off, her face becoming contorted in frustration as I sat back in my chair, holding my head in my hands.
‘And it’s a mystery as to who that could be’ I said sarcastically as Abigail gave me a dirty look.
‘He’s my brother’ she retorted, reaching around inside of her black leather hand bag for the device that was irritatingly ruining a perfectly orchestrated evening.
‘Yeah, your brother’ I grunted, ‘who appears to spend more time with you than I have in the past six months. I want to spend time with my fiancé for at least one night without his interference. Is that too much to ask for?’
‘You know about his condition’ shot back Abigail.
I nodded, rolling my eyes into the back of my head. ‘I know, I know, fear of the dark, fear of tight spaces, fear of being touched. I ask you, how many things can a guy be afraid of?’
‘I told him, if he needed my help to call me’ retorted Abigail. ‘So if you intend to vent your aggression on somebody, let it be me. He’s innocent’ she said, storming out of the bar as I quickly paid the tab before hurrying after her. ‘Shit’ I thought, ‘if everyone was so damn innocent I’d be out of a job and living out on my arse.’
It was a short drive to her brother’s house, the streets dark and gloomy, the moon being extraordinarily bright at its pinnacle in the sky as I stopped the vehicle adjacent to the intended residence. The double storey home looked pale and gloomy in the darkness as Abigail looked at me, before exiting the vehicle, her breath visible in the darkness as I did the same.
The door to the residency flung open before Abigail had even rung the bell, her brother looking at her with glee filled eyes.
‘Hello Dominic’ smiled Abigail.
‘I’m glad you came’ said her brother. ‘I was having trouble sleeping. Whenever I closed my eyes this nightmare continued to play in my mind. Might you be able to stay with me tonight, at least until I manage to get to sleep?’ he asked as Abigail nodded, leading the way into the home. I managed a nod as Dominic looked at me, being unable to properly master a verbal greeting as the door closed behind me.
The interior of the home was shrouded with wood; wooden floors, wooden walls, even the furniture sharing the exact same pattern. Abigail led the way up the stairs, before turning right upon reaching the landing and escorting Dominic into his room, Star Wars posters littering the walls as I stood at the doorway as both brother and sister made their way into bed. I watched and waited patiently as Dominic began to count his usual numerical sequence in his mind to help him get to sleep, Abigail looking up at me with apologetic eyes as she mouthed the word ‘sorry.’ I instantly realised that she was not coming home with me tonight and it was with an angry heart that I briskly made my way down the stairs, slamming the front door behind me, hoping I kept that bastard of a brother awake for just a short while longer.
After driving around the town for a short while I eventually made my way back to the police station, logging into the target range and shuffling over to the farthest lane. Setting myself up in front of the target, I removed my magnum revolver from my belt and loaded all six chambers, pointing the loaded weapon at the intended target and squeezing, watching it go away. ‘If only everything were so easy’ I thought with a mischievous grin, ‘if only everything were so easy.’
Eight nights earlier:
I had parked my vehicle outside Dominic’s residence, waiting for his return home to speak with him. I took a deep breath as I turned on the radio, listening to some agonisingly brutal rap song which made my blood boil as I shut the radio off once more. Staring through the rear view mirror I suddenly noticed Dominic hobbling up the street, holding a cluster of books close to his chest, his eyes darting back and forth as though he were expecting somebody to attack him. Paranoid bastard, I’ll give him something to be worried about.
I exited the vehicle and hurried across the road over to him. ‘We need to talk Mr. Chase’ I began, being a little out of breath as I continued. ‘It’s about your sister. Well, actually it’s about your sister and I.’ I looked at him, his face looking puzzled, as if he were attempting to play coy, pretending he didn’t know who I was. ‘You do know who I am right?’ I continued, my voice tightening with anger. ‘We’ve met countless times in the past. You must have recognised me at some point in your ridiculously useless life! Anyway, I’m just here to say that I want you to lay off your sister. Why don’t you call your parents next time you have trouble sleeping? Now, I know about your little problems and I feel for you man, I really do, and many people in my position wouldn’t. But I would like to at least spend a little time romantically involved with your sister. Can you allow me that?’
The bastard didn’t even respond, appearing to completely ignore me as he walked past me and towards his front door. ‘You can’t have her you know!’ I cried as he slammed the door behind him.
One night earlier:
I lay in my relaxing bed, the wooden slats beneath me groaning as Abigail made her way over to me, unbuttoning her purple blouse and dropping it to the floor. Her amazingly luscious body that I had not seen much of recently looked as delicious as ever as I licked my lips, eager to taste her succulent flesh. I found myself salivating at her image, her dark hair rolling across her shoulders, her darker eyes looking directly into mine. Her brassiere matched the colour of her panties, both being a filthy black in colour as she made her way into bed beside me. I reached my arm around her and caressed her skin, kissing her moist lips as she groaned.
‘We haven’t done this in a long time’ she purred, beginning to unbutton my police uniform, falling on top of me and giggling as I embraced her in a warm hug. The two of us locked lips as her tongue ventured into my mouth, exploring the environment as I closed my eyes. Her hands reached for my zipper as I began to feel myself getting an erection – the phone spontaneously ringing and breaking through my greatest fantasies.
‘No, no, no!’ I shouted, infuriated at what had just happened as Abigail made her way off from my person and reached for the phone. Speaking for only a few short seconds, I instantly knew what was happening as I fell back into bed, holding my head in my hands as she put the phone back down. ‘I’m sorry Marcus’ she said. ‘But I really need to go.’
‘You don’t have to’ I said, becoming aggravated. ‘You need him like a hole in the head. I’m your fiancé! Could we at least spend some quality time together before we seal the bond? I was accosted by an attempted murderer today but you don’t hear me crying out for help, do you? I come home and I want to spend some time with the woman I am so in love with, not watch her leave to spend time with her brother. Do you not want to feel my erected penis inside you? Do you not want me caressing your succulent breasts? Do you not want me sucking your delectable clitoris? Jesus Christ, if I didn’t know any better I’d say the two of you were engaging in an incestuous relationship!’
‘That’s enough Marcus!’ shouted Abigail, putting her clothes back on. ‘I don’t need this crap from you right now’ she cried, tears in her eyes. ‘So just cut the bull and leave me be. I’ll be back as soon as I can’ she said, leaving the room as I fell back into the bed.
‘I can drive you!’ I shouted, hearing her cry ‘I’ll take a cab!’ the front door slamming behind her. I watched her from my window as she hurried down the street, cell phone to her ear. I buttoned up my shirt, grunting whilst I did so before eagerly hurrying down the stairs two at a time with the intention of following her.
I had parked in my usual position, opposite Dominic’s residence. I had watched Abigail arrive by cab, had seen the lights in her brother’s bedroom go on as she knelt down beside him, their shadows moving across the walls. I had waited patiently for over two hours, wondering what was taking them so long as Abigail finally emerged from the house, a taxi pulling up immediately as soon as she reached the curb, beginning to drive her back down the street. I rubbed my hands together as I took a deep breath, exiting my vehicle and walking towards the house. I picked the lock with a thin thread of wire, hearing the tumblers click into place, the door opening in front of me as I walked out onto the landing with the intention of speaking to her brother. I closed the door as quietly as I could behind me before slowly making my way across the wooden floor. Jesus Christ! Who in their right mind had their house comprised entirely of wood?
‘I’m sure I’d get his attention now’ I thought as I began to make my way up the stairs as slowly as possible, before hearing a sound coming from the kitchen. I crept back down the stairs and across the wooden floor, noticing a shape in the darkness that appeared to be constructing a sandwich as I sprang up behind him. Grabbing him around the neck, he instantaneously began to scream and squirm in protest, thrashing his arms around insanely as I dragged him into the lounge room and threw him into one of his wooden chairs.
‘Remember me?’ I growled through clenched teeth, ‘cuz I remember you.’ I took out my revolver and held it at my side, Dominic’s eyes growing wide with fear. ‘You ignored me before, but I doubt you can do that now. You think you know what fear is? Well let me educate you on something – you haven’t even scratched the surface. You know nothing about fear! Now, let me show you what fear really is’ I growled, holding the revolver in front of me. ‘Let’s see who the fates decide is the one most deserving of the love and affection of your beautiful sister, shall we?’
I removed every round but one from the chamber of my side arm, placing the others inside my pocket as I pointed the gun at his left temple and pulled the trigger. Dominic leapt in fear, astonished that nothing had happened. I drew the weapon to my head and smiled, pulling the trigger as I heard the weapon click, the chamber being empty. I pointed the gun back at Dominic, feeling extraordinarily powerful as beads of sweat ran across his face while he appeared to try to mouth sentences, the sounds being incoherent drivel. Pulling the trigger, the gun once again clicked, failing to fire as I turned the gun back on myself. I smiled at Dominic, holding the weapon steadily in my hand, before squeezing the trigger.
SYNOPSIS: My idea of a stereotypical break-up poem
Today could have been the day you found out you were pregnant and we began to start a family.
Today could have been the day I proposed, getting down on bended knee, asking you to marry me.
Today however is the day I sit back, alone again, and cry.
I stare drunkenly at the moon and toss insults at the falling stars,
the same falling stars I once wished upon that never truly brought me to you,
and even though I held you in my arms, you were never truly mine.
I could have been a million miles away because sitting next to you meant next to nothing.
I would ask if anything we experienced was true, but I’m afraid of the answer.
Was everything simply one great big lie, is that a tragic fact?
I should have realised your promises were too good to be true,
but I unfortunately had been struck down by love, and refused to see the signs.
When I told you my feelings, you didn’t believe me, and my heart lay down and died.
You had this picture perfect image of the perfect man that, like a tuxedo two sizes too small, I could not fit into.
When we first met, you were looking for Mr. Right, but instead you found me, and now it is a second too late; all our love is gone.
When in a relationship, you stressed you give it your all; your heart, mind, soul and body.
When I was younger I had delusions of grandeur, I wanted to be yours.
Since then, I have learnt a lot. I only wish I had been born with such knowledge
to avoid the unspeakable pain that now resides inside my head and heart.
I will admit, lessons have been leant, however, heart’s have been razed to the ground,
although I can only speak for myself because mine is all but dead and gone.
When we first met, I was so alive, free and passionate; I cannot believe who I once was. I cannot believe how much things have changed.
I am now an archipelago, lost and stranded in the crisp blue ocean, sending out an S.O.S to your heart,
for mine, it has been belittled, it has been broken, and it is no longer yours.
Last night I had myself a dream, one in which your loving heart came to rescue me,
but I knew from the beginning, although it was so beautiful,
it was rather unfortunately, happily never after.
When we were together I was hypnotised from a spell cast by your hand;
a man I had once been, but now a prisoner, one enslaved to your voice,
and whatever order you gave to me, I would have only too gladly executed.
You could have taken out a gun, pressed it to my temple, and asked me to pull the trigger,
and I would have obediently done so too, because I was not quite myself anymore.
I would have done anything you asked of me, but now I fear it’s too late to dwell on the past.
I read somewhere and ignorantly believed it too, a quote from a wise old woman,
who stated ever so positively and honestly, that there was no death in love.
For your crimes against the loving heart, warrants should be out for your arrest.
You need to be charged with the murder of love, and pain was your accomplice.
Every law enforcement officer, bounty hunter and able bodied hand should have been deployed
to apprehend the heinous violator who committed such horrid acts against romance.
To this I say; long live the ghost of the fallen angel, fallen angel which was you,
but no longer. Now altered into blue eyed devil, blue eyed demon, blue eyed evil.
So sweet and innocent you once were, when you went looking for a young man’s heart;
taught to be good by your parents; to treat others with decency and respect,
and to never talk to strangers, especially when within a strange land.
You had your own ideals on love however, your own beliefs on romance;
you enjoyed the company of older men for their experience and younger men for their passion,
until you were barbarically taken advantage of, and it was only then that we fell in love.
But perhaps all of it was nothing less than a dream, and if it were, it was a good dream while it lasted
within the fabricated reality of my mind,
where I daydreamed in the dark spaces of this cold, cold world.
However, if it were to happen again
there are some things I would have to recommend.
Instead of surrendering your entire self, you could have put in half of your heart,
and I could have put in half of mine, and together we would have made a complete whole,
and therefore you would have been without a fathomable excuse to leave me,
because losing you was difficult, for you’re like no woman I’ve ever known.
I wish I had the power to see into your heart, to feel as you do,
because I cannot believe you could forget what we had so easily
and begin something new with a certain someone.
I believe it’s a facade, a shitty disguise,
because I think, or I hope, although I don’t know which just yet, that you still love me,
for the greater the romance, the worse the pain, and therefore the greater the rebound.
When we cried, it was comparative to rain in a formidable storm,
and when you started up your vehicle, the engine throttled like thunder,
right before you left at a speed faster than that of lightning.
Over time I had said jokes and I had confessed my feelings;
if only this were the way love was supposed to be, you would still be in my arms tonight.
I would have popped you the question; I certainly would have, this is my truthful confession,
but you tore out my heart from its place in my chest before I even had the chance,
and yet I am still the proud owner of my heart’s train, but rather regrettably
and unfortunately, it is at the end of its line,
for no more tracks will be laid upon this broken romance.
Now, when I walk into the bathroom and look in the mirror,
I see there’s a hideous monster staring right back at me.
This monster, he is representative of my terribly scarred heart,
for I cannot believe you are walking around with somebody else
and not just walking. But I do not dare imagine, or even write down, what else you are doing,
because it is just too painful to imagine your Heavenly body loving somebody else.
You say you do not know what is happening, you do not know what you are doing,
and in turn I reply, it is obvious. You are going to do each other,
all the two of you need to discover is where? Why? And how?
Later I regret saying this, but admit it, I will not.
All I can say, is your new man, he had better hold you real tight,
because if he don’t, I swear to you, I’ll steal you right back to me.
You say he’s great, this guy you talk about, the guy you’re constantly with,
and I ask, how can you be with him, I cannot believe he’s your type.
You say you have never felt this kind of love for any other man before.
You think you have finally found the one, that you have finally got it right.
Such words are music to your ears, but they certainly are not to mine.
How do you think it makes me feel to find everything we had was flawed?
Was I simply and always invisible to you – like a specter it would seem?
Was I a sand man, but a man made of sand, who would blow apart and disappear?
However, and it might just amaze you to learn, that I still love you;
the same way a verse loves a couplet; the same way a song loves a rhyme.
You could change your face, hair and name. You could flee to a foreign land,
and still I would have nothing but romanticised feelings for you.
If you want these feelings I have for you to end
you had better get yourself a gun for hire
because I am not ever going to stop loving you,
even after all that you did to me and I to you,
because I love you now, exactly as I loved you then.
I have always loved you, and I fear I always will.