:: creative-pursuits :: written-word :: calculus


Sitting in class,
listening to the professor
go on and on about
and my mind wanders.
The nearby nuclear power plant
is testing sirens today,
muffled through the thin
walls of the hall
they sound almost like
a memory.
People dodging, ducking
grabbing their children and
looking for shelter
people losing semblance
the mob lurches forward
the entire population
running from the
Godzilla air raids
lost in the crowd
the faces disappear
and no one notices
when the child
gets left behind
stumbled, falls,
trampled to death
by his own parents.
One nameless casualty of
But still the sea
of people
flows with tumultuous current
through the veins of the
city, lights without
fixtures shining truth upon
their souls, numbers
mean nothing-the
mindless and the savant
serve the same goal;
They reach the shorelines
and some start to jump
before they realize
that they can't
Lungs filling like
paper parachutes
ripped from the industrial
fog of war
bodies sinking like
lead anchors
into the murky
depth of their
own fears.
Drowning, they float
like characterless
driftwood, devoid of
purpose, entire lives
thrown away.
Sightless eyes
to share no memories.
Back in the square,
the drones running still
destination unknown
save for anywhere but here-
The business men dive out
of the skyscrapers
to dot the streets with the most
vivid crimson
-living paint-
Each suit an artist,
the square the fatal canvas,
identical masterpieces, but
none can compare.
Then out of the sky
comes the great fungus god-
mushroom clouds of
the toxic spores
and suddenly, all is
Silence the only noise
deaf ears can hear.
Thousands dead with
the push of a button
the skyscraper springboards
no longer exist
the mindless and the savant
die equals
the lead anchors
and lifeless driftwood
The few survivors
regain their
no longer mere
numbers, once again
human, they grow
aware of pain.
Permanent artifacts of
the destruction
of the day.
They rebuild, they
Suddenly, it hits me-
shit... I'm still in

At least I'm alive.