This act of passion has been pre-meditated, with the event played over in his head months prior. But tonight, is the night. He enters the room and it is dark but he can sense her location, her beautiful yet fragile frame shaking with nervous anticipation. "there's no turning back from this.", He mutters with a malevolent looking grin as he unsheathes the knife. Her eyes lock onto his as every step bridges the gap between them. She preemptively attacks him with ferocity that has never been seen from her by any other. He allows her the illusion of power and control for a few moments and then throws her to the ground, plunging the blade with precision movements into her. Her body contorts with unrestricted passion as she cries out to her God for mercy. He stabs at times quickly and blind with bloodlust, at other times slowly and passionately making each drive of the knife count as he watches her face react. Sweat builds on his body as her body becomes weak while he tells her everything that led up to this. With one final moment of writhing from her body, he knows it's over. He wipes the blade off, leaving evidence from the events of the evening behind as he stares at her gorgeous, unmoving form in the dark. He opens the door to the innocent world outside, presenting his body to the rain as it washes his sins away.

The Fool

To every Man who tried to win the argument of "I love you more"

To every Man who chose the mistress who put him in the hospital over the lady who got him out

To every Man with lapses in his memory and judgment

To every Man who has staked a claim on some cold, lonely couch

To every Man Who has shaken off the cold like a dog shakes dry

You Sir, are fucked.

I've climbed grassy mounds in spring time

To find beautiful displays atop most I'd conquered

Though the only ones I would long to make return visits to

Was when I lived harmoniously with the landscape

Planting a flower for every I'd gently pluck

Huck, the drunk, sits across from me sipping his tea

Huck, the self admitted fool who has helped raise a child that wasn't his

Huck, with his ankle bracelet on, reads me a poem he wrote to his mother

Huck speaks of how he can't wait to go to prison, just so he can move on with his life

Huck speaks of the weight that comes with baring the title poet

The obligation to point ten thousand fingers in the face of tyranny

Ace Up My Sleeve

The players sit around the squat circular table, cards in hand held close to their chest. Their faces barely visible in this dark room, only when taking a drag off of their cigar or cigarette. The only sounds are that of clinking ice in bitter beverages, the subtle tapping on the table, and of course the shuffling of cards. The air is as deadly serious as the stakes of this particular game, with each hand played a sense of caution and ruthlessness is taken. All the players have their amassed colorful chips sitting before them like the spoils of war, except for one. This player is down to his last few chips and perhaps his last hand. He sits with sweat beginning to collect on his hands, he places his cigarette in his mouth and wipes them off on his pants as he waits for the cards to be dealt. Finally receiving his hand, he turns it over and immediately takes a long hit off his glass of whiskey. At first for being dealt a shit hand, and then realizing he'd so obviously given himself away to his opponents. Others begin to fold as the man who holds no drink and smokes nothing raises the stakes. But the man drinking his whiskey has everything to lose but also everything to gain, so he remains in. The man drains his whiskey and thinks about the consequences were he to cheat, never before has he resorted to such a thing. He rules that he can live with this secret submission, if just to go on to play one more hand.

The migrating geese overhead do not understand gravity but they know how to fly.

The trees do not know the days but they know when to meditate.

I do not know where this jagged path is leading but I know how to walk.

When the subtle way of the universe is taught

people know where to go and what to learn

I have found that life often interjects coincidence without explanation. Flipping through a notebook I'd found hidden, I came across long forgotten notes I'd taken at least a years time ago. Among these sloppily and hastily written notes were the results of some personality test I'd not given all that much thought to after removing my pen from the paper. But now as I am sitting at this table, that had but one chair when I entered the room, these lost words resonate like they never did when originally written. I've pondered your nickname for me, Owl, and haven't confirmed any resemblance from others I've asked. But now as I read these near illegible words, The Owl-Problem solver of the animal kingdom, I'm reminded that you saw deeper than surface level. The universe is trying to tell me something, I just don't know what yet.