Mr. Dimpleton

Call me Mr. Dimpleton My friends know me, simply As Hucklebee; the best Simply at everything. Or Rather I am better than— You; a worker bee like myself Strong, sharp, and quick Too quick! Not for me Because…well, I’m Hucklebee Anything you can do—did it Done it, even if I haven’t Of course I will tell a lie I’m the best; the greatest Oh, you Skype? Me too Simpletons; they believe Anything I say—must be true So true. It’s so simple, then— Call me, Hucklebee Dimpleton   Photo by Marten Newhall on Unsplash

Minute Fifteen

There is no time like today Dreams of tomorrow that will never come Yesterday, full of regret; that day is done Time is acting without delay   Never enough time is same As forever having time until never The clock of paralysis—so, clever Numb is day that almost came   A minute stolen; a minute per token The hand stops at quarter of day Hungry is the man who must pay An hour glass, now, broken   In fifteen minutes A symphony I can write Paint the sky a hue of red bright In fifteen minutes   The world would…

Machine Parts

The world turns, and I—left a witness. A drone disconnected from the hive; lost, and yet…whole simultaneously. The machines circle around like orbital lights. A glimpse of eternity in that night. Too quick, only entrails remain in sight. I am not afraid. Yet, I reluctantly still; observing time through a glass sphere. A world full of apparitions, and I a lonely reflection of the whole. The turn of the wheel is so precise—its mechanical. Parts moving to the order of things like mindless parts. The wheel turns. Tick-tock, tick-tock—the sound of moving parts. Their turning more alien than the lonely…

Goodbye Letter

The pen dances to the beat of my heart I worry you can’t read this Scribble; written in the dark I want you to understand why—why this   Before you I was me—broken Pieces discarded into the thinness of air Another man’s lure of promises; stolen As if he didn’t even care   Black and blues almost every day Myself I blamed; Instead of hating him Whatever the reason—we seem to stay Even though a future seems vague and dim   When someone breaks your heart—it hurts A dozen million pieces aren’t the same What he did; it was worse…