The Basement

basement6

A man, ten years ago, told

Me

My

Environment did not cause my insanity

My

Genes did

I followed him home one night, and I

Captured him

He’s now in my

Basement

Been there as

My prisoner for

Ten years now

To keep him from running,

I severed his Achilles tendons

To keep him from screaming,

I cut out his vocal cords

I own him

I own his environment

I am his world

I may let him free

One day, or, I may simply

Kill him

Regardless, his fate is totally up to

Me and my

Basement

I’m certain that the environment of my

Basement

Has caused him far more

Pain

Depression

Anxiety

And loss of

Sanity

Than any

Genetic

Abnormality

He was born with

Our

Environment

Has far more

Effect on

Us

Than does our

Genes

If

You Think

Differently,

My

Basement

Awaits

You

So that

You

Can prove

Me

Wrong

Cleaning The Morgue

Hospital Morgue

Hospital Morgue

The smell of formaldehyde hits your nose just as you open the door. It’s 3:00 AM and your hand searches frantically on the cold steel walls for the light switch. CLICK! The humming buzz of the overhead fluorescent light is now heard as a flickering, ghostly blue glow fills the room. You push your cart of pine-smelling chemicals, which you can barely smell over the odor of the formaldehyde, into the tiny room and begin to sweep. On your left is a large transparent drum filled with human lungs. “Funny,” you say to yourself, “how easy it is to see which lungs belonged to smokers.” You sweep past the drum and turn to face the blue, cold, steel examining table. The table is speckled with half-dried blood, and patches of human hair are clumped near the top of it, where the medical examiner removes the brains of the dead to be weighed.

You sweep around the table and under the shelves to the right. On those shelves sit glass jars filled with eyes, hearts, cancer-eaten breasts, and sliced up testicles. “I wonder what happened to all of these people,” you ask yourself, as you pour pine oil into your bucket. You look at your watch and realize that you have ten minutes before break, so you hurry and mop the blood-stained, yellowish tile floor, and scrub the exam-table free of human debris; then you put your mop back into your bucket and notice how the smell of the formaldehyde has been masked by the pine oil and how the examining table looks so much more sanitary without the bloody clumps of hair. You then exit the morgue while turning off the humming fluorescent light, notice how peaceful and clean-smelling the morgue is in the dark, then close and lock the door.

After putting away your cleaning equipment, you take your Coke and your Twinkie to the back of the hospital, sit on the stairs next to the bio-incinerator, and watch the smoke of incinerated flesh rise to the heavens, in the black of night, while enjoying your snack, and thinking about the bathrooms you’ll have to clean when you resume work.

The Ax Man

grass

There was a nothingness

Behind the eyes of the

Ax man

A coldness

A darkness

That just

Was

 

He watched her for

Weeks

From afar

Before he decided

She

Was the

One

 

He followed her

Home

One cold night

As she happily walked

Down the

Quiet

Street where she lived

 

As she put her

Key

Into her door

He

Appeared behind her, quickly

Placing his warm, calloused

Hand

Over her young

Mouth

“Do not scream,”

He said,

“For I am the

Ax man, and

I am going to

Set

You

Free”

 

She awoke in a

Field of tall,

Dead grass

She was

Cold,

Alone

 

Then she heard a

Crunch!

And a voice that said,

“Run, my prey, from me, the

Ax man

Before I set you

Free”

 

She

Screamed

But

No one

Heard

Save the

Ax man

Who grinned

As a

Bit of

Drool

Dribbled

Down his bearded

Chin

 

She ran as she heard

The breath of the

Ax man

Nearing her

Pant!

Pant!

Pant!

It went as

Thump!

Thump!

Thump!

Her pounding

Heart

Beat

 

It

Pounded as the

Ax of the

Ax man

Struck

The back of her

Legs

Knocking her

Down

With a

Crackling

Crunch

Into the tall,

Dry,

Dead grass

Of the

Dark field

 

She turned and

Gazed up at the

Ax man

As he raised his

Ax and

Smiled down at her

 

All she could see,

Behind his eyes,

Was a

Nothingness

A meaningless

Indifferent

Nothingness

As he brought down his

Ax

And said, “Now,

My child,

You are

Free”

 

Though free from

What

He never

Said

And

She

No longer had the

Life

To care