my love for you is like a book with stolen pages
beautiful words erased
everything’s torn from the very bind
words rewritten that were never mine
an unknown author with a tale of a broken heart
spends his lonely days with nowhere to start
his pen runs dry
there’s nothing more to capture
in this tragic love story without its final chapter
Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time. – John Lubbock
a weathered man greets me on a corner
his face, aged ten times and his smile barely cracks
but I know it’s there as his eyes always confirm
for a million moments in passing
he shares with me his story
I read every line trenched in his scaling cheek
and coarse wore out locks
paint for me a daily tragedy
and all I do is keep walking
I’ve wasted so much time and heartache trying to find out why someone no longer loves me. When all I had to do, was accept that they probably never did. Therefore, I’m free. – Ash
Thursday, 12:15 P.M.
Continue reading “The Black Journal (Reconstructed Classroom, Industrial Area, Downtown)”
Ah, Det. Frost!
Perfect, you’re here.
OK, since we’re all present, let’s get started.
Follow me, the body is this way.
So, Det. Frost, have you ever dissected a frog?
In high school, perhaps?
Then, how about a teacher?
Ever dissect a teacher?
Thursday, 11:11 A.M.
Frost, hey…come in, sit down.
Listen, you’re up.
Downstairs just called.
Someone’s found a body.
They say this one’s a smidge above their pay grade.
So, I’m going to need you to take the lead.
What about my vacation?
You know it starts tomorrow.
You know how long I’ve been planning for this.
My wife’s going to kill me.
I don’t even take vacations, and she finally convinced me.
Oh, she’s killing me. I am just as dead as this vic.
Calm Down, calm down!
Cap, you’re the one who put this trip in her mind.
I’m sorry Frost, I realize that.
And, it wasn’t me, it was my lovely wife. At your party.
Deal with it Frost, you’re a big boy. She’ll understand. What can I say?
This stuff happens in our world.
You signed up for this. Now, stop your whining.
Take a look in that folder. It’s what we know so far.
You’re going to owe me Cap.
Promise me an extra three weeks right here on the spot and I’ll do an about-face.
We won’t have to discuss anything further and I’ll do my job and hopefully save my marriage at the same time.
We’ll talk about it Frost. No promises.
Remember, I am your superior. I can just order you.
Alright, alright…let me see the damn file.
Geez, why can’t serial killers be like teachers and take the summer off?
Yeah, about that Frost.
…he’s a teacher.
Sunsets are proof that no matter what happens, every day can end beautifully. – Kristen Butler