Writing

Trainer Orange Ep. 10

Tense, the entrees gathered around without a whisper. Martin wasn’t allowed to follow, waiting in the lobby with the other parents. 

A woman, large purple hair and a professors trench coat dragged along the cold tiles. Professor Ivy, Franklin has caught her on the t.v before talking about Pokemon. Red’s friend used to live at her labrototy before moving back home to Kanto Region. Professor Ivy stopped briefly at each participant and whispered and moved along. She made her way quickly and the entrees lingered on her even after she walked past.

“Hello, er Franklin. I’m Professor Ivy and I’ll walk you through the basics and than there will be a short tutorial before the first round begins. I just wanted to make sure the entrees know that the Pokemon that you guys are going to be using live at my lab. They are my family so I want you guys to treat them with care.”

“I understand Professor.”

“Why are you entering Franklin?”

“I need the money for… For my family.”

Ivy surveyed Franklin, “I wish you the best of luck Franklin. For your family.” Professor Ivy walked to the next participant

Poetry · Writing

Stranded

I can’t remember when it happened.

When I became obliviously​ cold to the warmth around. When emotion

was an option. I use to be human.

Feeling the air between each strand of hair across my scalp like a childhood memory, it’s unclear.

I can’t remember when it happened.

Poetry · Writing

Mile 50

Bless your soul

your weary tears have traveled

a great distance.

A great feet, no matter how tragic.

The marathon runner they called it.

Shouting from cracked windows

down at busy streets

“You can’t do this”.

Your weary tears have

traveled a great distance

and they’re in the final lap.

Poetry · Writing

White Lies

Believe what you want. I’ve never

sat and watched you bleed on our kitchen floor. I’ve never

climbed this mountain and claimed you watched. I’ve never

let a white elephant walk all over you. But believe what you want.

Those scars existed long before I walked that threshold. I might of examined or kissed but never teared. But believe what you want. I’ve never

climbed this mountain alone. I’ve never 

broken in this furniture without your tender finger tips. I’ve never

kept this door locked for more than an hour. Believe what you want but

Believe in me.

Poetry · Writing

Golden Retribution

Some days you just need shower more than a breathe.

Subtle flicks of fortune blow

over to another

before you can say

was that gold.

Some days a fresh perspective is all you need more than that shower.

Shower is not for all

save bucket and a

staff for me to wash

the guilt off me.

Some days a beer is all you need so dump that perspective