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The Silver Syringe

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  To whom it may concern,      I loved her yet I murdered her. Or rather, I should say, it was that cursed instrument of Lucifer himself that did so! The same of which you have, no doubt, since found protruding from my purple, bloated corpse. I lament for the one of whom pulled that wretched item from my vein. For you have now lost your soul. Forgive me. This is my confession - a cautionary tale in a post-mortem attempt to rid humanity of that wicked, wicked harbinger of doom!      I believe it was late March of 1899 when I had first met her at an extravagant gathering in London’s Hyde Park district. The young, upper crust of society strutted about the decadent flat - their bright peacock feathers on full display. I was in attendance only by invitation of an acquaintance, Henry. Allow me to digress for a moment, if you will. You have to understand that I was not there by will, but rather by chance. My fortune was thrown upon my lap by complete surprise. My great Aunt’s vast estate, mea

The Staggering Now

I fear of the nothingness When finally unplugged From the Earth's core I wary when, decades on My name only mentioned with Passing fancy and flippancy What will have become of me, Zeus? Will my vibrations have ceased? Wiped from the great slate of time? In these often moments When drunk with clarity The NOW's worth is staggering - Esteban Luis Soto

The Beauty in Weeds

Roses are powerless to me For I've found beauty in weeds And the lesser creatures who Found refuge in their pallid lure Knew this all along For they never strayed to Angel trumpets nor orchids To tulips or birds of paradise Nor will I, here on - Esteban Luis Soto

Eight Hour Redemption

Eight Hour Redemption         The gruesome news had spread at fever pitch. A known asteroid (ES52145), roughly the size of our moon, had unexpectedly shifted orbit and was on a direct collision course with Earth. NASA, and other government space agencies, were unable to confirm due to catastrophic system failures. In fact, only a few reputable news sources remained online and they confirmed and predicted that, within a brief eight hour’s time, Earth would be rendered to fiery rubble.       Chaos ensued worldwide. All flights were canceled. Cars were abandoned on roads and their occupants hastened along sidewalks, wailing. Strangers embraced. People were intimate in alleyways and parked vehicles. Desperate calls to loved ones rarely connected due to system overload. Yet, despite the impending apocalypse, the vast Texas sky was a vivid baby-blue.     In Wimberly, Texas, Luis and Lynn, having recently filed for an amicable divorce after forty-five years of marriage, consigned to

Coffee Shop Princess

I remember the nights When the winds came Whispering memoirs of you And the ever-years since When barren loins No longer bear fruit I recall when emails ceased An historical marker of mind And the passing of days to decades With silence slicing like Invisible, inevitable assassins Still, I'm in ever-want of you Sweet life - savage and stabbing Yet beautiful and healing, now All that remains are woeful Cinemas in theaters of mind Same movie on loop - ELS

Ghost-Birds And Satellites

I sit... In the tepid nonchalance of reality With the pulsating sting of mortality The universe, yet to answer my queries Of to whom I exist and why The ambivalence of life beyond this From afar... I've watched fellow mankind In algorithms of normalcy Writhing in traps of grandeur Liberated yet chained to The diseased American Dream I ponder... Oh, great creator, will I ripple?! Quake beneath their streamlined paths?! Silly me. Silly me The universe hasn't time for queries It's occupied with wrecking itself Hours on... In the pastel haze of liquor Amid ghost-birds and satellites I realize - that the answer Is not worthy of the question So I'll count fireflies instead Forgive me. I've digressed. It's 9:03 a.m. now I'm late for work (c) 2017 Esteban Luis Soto