Looking at the arrow of time, he felt that it was wrong. It didn’t explain his bouts of DeJa’Vu.
Oh, that’s why he had spent so much of his life putting together this machine from those moments.
Only did he have the balls to press the button and see what would happen?
Pushing it he winked out of time. When he woke up he had a feeling he should make a time machine…
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread was his favorite proverb
It encapsulated his life in ways that spanned from ludicrous to profound
Ever since he was a boy, he would do the near impossible, twist fate into pretzels, and never miss a beat
Reveling in the audacity of the chaos he spread around like seeds from a dandelion caught in a tornado
Could do no wrong, and it was just the way of the universe
Evidently when you held your guardian angel hostage, you could ever be the fool, but were you?
Velocity was too high and from the wrong direction for the two spacecraft to dock.
Even with all the acceleration he had at his fingertips, the joining would not be successful.
Considering the impulse they were about to experience, he shouted, “Brace yourselves!”
The impact caused them to increase angular momentum, spinning them and the forces pinned them hard against their seats.
Observing their attempted destination spin away into the void, he fired the thrusters to arrest the erratic rotation.
Rockets fired and the spacecraft slowed in the gravitational field it floated in.
Making food always made him feel both happy and sad.
Every morsel that left his kitchen was a love note to those who ordered it.
A loving response was an empty plate that came back, ready to be cleaned for a new missive.
Leaving food on the plate meant rejection and left him wondering what went wrong.
So many thorns that he couldn’t touch without being pricked intimidated him
Perhaps that was what was intended, but he wouldn’t let that deter him
It just made the pursuit of that simple touch that much more exciting
Knowing one false move, one wrong twitch would leave him sore and bleeding
Except when he finally got through and she smiled… it was worth all the pain
So, I haven’t posted here for a couple of days
Of course, I hate when that happens
Really, I wanted to post, but I was burning the candle at both ends
Reaching a point where the words would not come
You can be assured I am sorry and will try to do better in the future.
And now a bonus poem/story…
She wanted to tell him she had been wrong in what she did
Or maybe not quite wrong, but maybe more mistaken
Reaching out, she cupped his cold face with her hands
Ready to finally apologize for what she had done
Yet she couldn’t though since he was already dead
She looked at her client perched on her couch. “Tell me again what’s wrong?”
He didn’t dignify her with a response.
“Really? You don’t want to say anything?”
It didn’t seem to alter his disposition. He closed his eyes to slits and stared at her
Now these were the times she wished she had thought about this if this was the right career for her
Knowing this, would she have not gone into cat psychology? Probably not. Mr. Butters left the couch and jumped onto her lap as if to seal the deal. Purrrrfection!
Been promised that everything would be fine
Except that was never going to be true
That shouldn’t have surprised her
Rachel had grown up on the wrong side of the tracks
And no one there was ever able to keep their word, even if they tried
Yet this one hurt more than all the rest put together
Everett said he would always be there to hold her, to help make things right
Death had conveniently gotten him out of that, the bastard. She spit on his grave.
Grabbing all the bits and bobs he might need for creation
Everything, of course, except the right batteries
And once it was together, he had no way to test it
Reaching for some wires he hot glued them onto the wrong batteries and voila!
*Do not try this. I am not condoning this. Even though it might work.
Been doing all the things
Understand that means lots of naps
Some may say that she’s lazy
You would be wrong. Dreaming is hard work.
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
AUTHOR
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Never Short On Words 