Hunted

Why me?
Breathlessly I run,
Hide from the relentless pursuit
Of that hoard of lesser-demons
Scrambling in packs
Attempting to catch my scent,
Flush me out
Where their pencil-thin, blackened limbs
Long, sharp claws for digits
Can tear me apart,
Sharp, uneven little teeth
Poking out of their maniacal, laughing grins
In their disproportionately large heads
With those bottomless
Those glowing
Hungry, starving
Eyes
That search for me,
See me without seeing
Flaunting their own bloodlust
Quenched only when my flesh
Dangles from their smiling jaws
That mock me endlessly
As they tirelessly
Search for me,
Their prey.
Why me?
--~}@{~--

They Laughed

I stepped onto school grounds,
Wading unthinkingly through sober faces,
Low murmers,
Tension,
And slowly looked up,
Drawn by the jarring sound of laughter
On the balcony
Of the gym.
My eye was pulled down by the weight around me,
To the path they bored through the air;
Their half-raised fingers left conclusions subtly unstated.
Slaps on the balcony congratulated each other,
Howls proclaimed triumph
Over it
And them.

It dangled.
It swung back and forth,
Oblivious,
Slowly turning on its long rope,
Its noose.
The sign on its chest proclaimed
Class affiliation;
Its clothes hinted at more.

It was suddenly cold for a late summer morning.
The living body of clothes
Climbed the final stair.
Grabs drew attention on the balcony rail, too late.
Grins flaunting immortality froze.
Heat radiated from his livid face,
Fire broke from his hand
Immutable voice shouted rage for him
And some of them.
Victors scattered, chased by chills, by fire,
Never again unshakeable.
Down stairs, over rail
Bodies flew soundlessly
From the top of the world
Caught by their frame-by-frame vision.

He stood
Over his effigy,
Protecting the innocent.
The forever branded
Scattered through the unmoving silence,
Their silence
That soon broke
To laugh at the expressions on faces,
Living faces that met death for the first time
And never mocked again
What they mocked so readily.
--~}@{~--

Suspended on a Wire

I'm captive to the beating of my heart;
Its steady rhythm marks off seconds
That aren't passing.
There is no one else,
Just you
And I
And everything
Here as witness
To the wire
Drawing our lips together,
Slowing time until
Nothing
In the universe
Breathes again.
--~}@{~--

Price of Silver

Eyes averted
For self or sacrifice...
Forfeiting the battle
To preserve their illusion
Or my sanity?
They can't see me,
But why should they?
Why look in their eyes
When they don't see that I'm real?

I am
They can't guess what
I feel
They don't ask why
I was born
They think they know when,
But where
They will never have been
And how
They could not conceive.

Am I even living
Without an attainable hope?
The reality others have
Is a precious dream to me.
How can I become real?
I am an alien born into their world
With no home but myself.
I am a puzzle piece out of place
And out of time,
Not fitting into the picture
Surrounding me,
Able to join with other pieces,
But only by displacing
The one which belongs.
How then can I give myself to their world?

I cannot join them uninvited;
Few offer,
And those who do
Often forget to ask me along
On the rest of their journeys.
Fewer still will join me,
If any,
In this flux
Between life and vision
Where even an enemy would be welcome.

Making hope real
By purchase of blood
May draw it dearer,
But what worth
Has a sacrifice once destroyed?
What remains
To claim the prize so hard-bought?
What price is too high
For hope?
Is there such a thing as
Paying too much
To become real?

I can give all freely,
In pieces
Cut with the blood-soaked knife of volition
And handed to the wolves
Without exchange,
To be devoured,
To perhaps become real in them;
Or I can lose myself unwillingly,
Watching all I've held back
Slowly wither and die,
Unused life draining away.
I am condemned either way.

I have the world to offer,
And would gladly receive
Any who ask,
But none ask
Despite the treasures within.
A world unshared,
Unjoined to another,
Keeps me a world apart
From being real.
Why does value
Have to be determined by demand?
Silver coins that bought peerless life,
Can't even give mine away.
--~}@{~--

Todd Flood 2/7/98

The water gushed. 

Some drunken vandal's bright idea

	Soaked through 3 floors, 

		Drowned framed, blurred photo smiles

		Trickled to clay pot on basement windowsill

	Whose parched earth cradled shriveled neglect, 

Caught the fountain's filtered spray

And lived again.