Another Monday.

Why are you wearing your suit, John?  Monica asked her husband; while she was trying to get her head around the usual Mondays morning madness.

John was standing near the door with his finest suit, to be completely accurate it was his only suit. Staring at his wife he was disappointed, it obvious he was expecting a completely different reaction from his wife.  

You didn’t see the note I left on the kitchen table? John asked, just to realize that his wife put her cup of coffee on what was probably the most important piece of writing he ever wrote.

No, I didn’t see any note, John can you please tell me what is going on? its Monday morning you know.  It was clear that his wife was not in the mood for puzzling questions.                                                                                                                                                                  Please Monica, john said with a half begging and half annoyed voice, lift your cup of coffee and read the note I wrote. John’s plan didn’t work the way he pictured it in his head.

Monica lifted her cup of coffee while mumbling “I don’t have time for this”. Underneath the coffee cup Monica could see a note that was already stained with coffee. The only thing that she was able to read was “I am” and “final”. John, I cannot read it, I don’t have time for this, its Monday morning, you know.  

For God’s sake Monica, it’s a suicide note, John exclaimed. I am about to jump off of a bridge.

So, is that the reason you are wearing your only suit John? Why do you want to do it with the most expensive clothing you have? You can jump with the same level of success with jeans and a t-shirt.

Before John had any chance to replay to his wife and explain that it seems kind of right to die with his best clothes. Monica put her cup of coffee back on the unreadable suicide note and said with a soft voice. I don’t want you to do it, but the warm feeling that John felt quickly vanished when his wife continued, it’s really not a good time John, there are so many errands to do and I cannot do everything by myself. there are bills to pay, the house is a mess and somebody needs to pick up the kids from school. its Monday you know. Besides that, its rush hour now, it will take you forever to get to where ever you want to go and kill yourself, you will want to kill yourself just standing in traffic. As much as John didn’t want to, he find himself smiling at the last thing that his wife said.                                                                                                                                                 

Can you at list postponed this all suicide thing to another time?

John felt that the drama he was hoping for will not happen, at least not today. node his head with agreement with his wife.

Ok honey, John said. I will pick up the kids. 

Thank you, John, and if you don’t mind to take the dog out, before he pees all over the house.  

Just before John closed the door behind him, wearing his normal, not the special suicide clothes and holding the dog’s leash, he heard his wife saying. “In the evening when you come back, I will make your favorite food, I promise”.                                                                                                                                                                 After her husband closed the door behind him. Monica said to herself while finishing her coffee.

“Monday, every single Monday”.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

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Eve it’s time to Go.

Please Adam, just a few more minutes, maybe an hour or two. I got a terrible Migraine. Eve’s eyes where almost completely closed when she was talking, her headache was bad, really bad. Eve was not good at handling pain; it was new to her. Pain was never part of her life before, it started only recently when their perfect life crashed.

Near her on the kitchen table Adam could see the empty Migraine-pills bottle and the empty cups of coffee that Eve was consuming all morning. We need to finish packing Adam said with a soft voice. Eve’s face twisted with pain; I know Adam, she answers back with a tortured whisper of her own.

In a way Adam wished to be also paralyzed with some kind of excruciating pain. This is a new reality that he was not prepared for, in a way Adam felt like an astronaut that landed on the wrong planet. But with his Eve pined with pain he was the one who needs to do the packing, he has to gather the remains of their once blissful life into boxes. Eve got the pain and he got the labor.

I cannot do it by myself, Adam wanted to shout. He wanted to shout so hard that his teeth will fly out of his mouth. But he couldn’t, he will not cause his Eve more pain. His beautiful Eve that use to run around their high-rise penthouse completely naked and free. His once care free Eve that stood in front of the window spread her hand and said “we have done it Adam; we have it all”.   

That was his Eve, she was the wind and he was the rock. If he was the lyrics Eve was the music. His naïve untroubled flower.

Adam recalled the evening when Eve introduced her new friend to him. Meet my new friend, his name is Coralillo. He got some great ideas for us to have more, Eve said with a cheerful voice. “We have got everything we need and want,” Adam wanted to say, but he didn’t, “this is not right,” a voice cried inside Adam’s head when his Eve told him about her new friend plan. “Nobody will ever find out” she told him. “Nobody can touch us; we are on the top of the world.”

Eve was the wind, the wind that moved the rock. I was supposed to say let’s go, I was supposed to say we will not get away with this. But I didn’t, Adam beat himself in his head. he wanted to shout, he wanted to cry. But he just whispers with a soft voice. “its time to go, Eve. It’s time to leave”

The Last Sunset.

Will the last man on earth remove his oxygen mask to take a final breath from the toxic air?

Will he take a moment in the name of the human-kind before him, to admire for the last time the sun-set?  

And before climbing into his space-ship and joining the rest of civilization in faraway planets, will he whisper to the red sky “you are beautiful” ?

Just before he leaves, while looking around the dead world around him, will he say “thank you planet for everything”?

But maybe there is no space-ship, maybe we didn’t find other planets to live in after we destroyed our own.

Maybe, just maybe, the last man on earth is the last man?

Is he, the owner of the only heart beats, will fall on his knees and buried his fingers in the ashes of what used to be our living mother?

In his last moments will he ask in the name of all of us “what have we done”?

Maybe?

Happy Me

“Little girls are not supposed to be sad”. Said the man with many diplomas on the wall. “Your mode already cost us too much money”, said the woman I called mom. “Enough with this useless behaver”. Joined her husband.

So, I set in my room in front on the mirror and with a lipstick I trace my face, ears nose and eyes. Only the mouth I drew deferent, I drew a big smile along the face in the mirror.  Hello there Happy Me, I said. Hello back, Sad You, the girl in the mirror replied. I want to be like you Happy Me, I said. You are happy and I am so sad. But I want to be you, cried back Happy Me. Why do you want to be sad? I asked.

My happiness is empty, said Happy Me. My Cheerfulness is fake. I am happy because I have to. I am glad because they say I need to be.

Your sadness is like a wave on a dark ocean.  Its full of emotions and pain. Your wave is gliding under a moonless night with memories and thoughts. You are deep and real little girl.

And when the sun will rise on the dark ocean, your wave will be shown to all, blue big and strong. Tears came down my face, when? When did they will see my true me? I asked.

It doesn’t matter beautiful girl, answer Happy Me.

It really doesn’t matter.  

 

 

Snow Man In Hell

You, yes you, that the blazing flames scorch away your memories from a different time. That the thick smoke covered the recognition of who you are. For so long the pain erase the why you are here.  You cannot feel a thing anymore, infinity lost its meaning.  All you feel is numbness, nothing else.

He will move silently, slowly, a colorful scarf around his neck and a funny Derby hat on his head, with a big smile curved on his face, he will remind you about the happiness you will never feel again. He will come over to you, close enough for you to feel just for a brief moment the soothing cold coming out from him. The heat will return, stronger than ever. The pain will hit you as it was your first moment down here, in a place that he will not let you forget the why and the before.

He is the devil’s cruelest servant; his torment is stronger then any flame.

He will give you hope that will never fulfilled.

He is a Snow Man in Hell.    

Someone to Blame.

 
Dr. Your blood results are back, you are a racist.

Him, what?  I can’t believe it, how did it happen?

Dr. You probably got exposed to bull-shit. It’s airborne, you know. This fucker flies straight into your ear and crawling into your brain.

Him, but I don’t feel racist.   

Dr. Jewish?

Him, hate them.

Dr. Black people?

Him, Scare the hell out of me.

Dr. Spanish?

Him, Fuck them. Oh my God, I really have it. What now? Will I get arrested?

Dr. No, it’s completely legal to be racist, it’s also legal to be an asshole. Careful not to transmit it to other people. Don’t forget that you are full with highly concentrated, highly infectious crap.

Him, what can I do?

Dr. This thing can pass trough the air, from television, radio and the internet.

Him, my life is over, I cannot be with anyone again.

Dr. Don’t say that, there are plenty of groups that will be happy to accept you. There are many like you. And don’t forget the most important thing of all.

Him, what is that?

Dr. You have always someone to blame. After all, what’s the point of being a racist if don’t have excuse for all your trouble?

No job, blame the Mexicans.

No money, blame the Jewish.

Afraid of your own shadow, blame Black people .

Him, I feel much better now.

Dr. Good. Now get out.

Him, why are you talking to me like that?

Dr. I have six million reasons too.                         

                          

In My Dream

In my dream

In my dream I saw him, the hanging man.

I came close to his rotten body.

Are you still there? I asked. Yes, I am, he answers.

Why you are not going away?

There is nothing left for you anymore.

I cannot let go. I just cannot let it go. Answer the hanging man.

In my dream

I was standing on the roof top.

I am afraid I told the prince.

Don’t be, he told me. I will hold your hand all the way down.

And when we hit the concrete below, will you still hold my hand?

I will never let go, promised the prince. I will never let you go.

In my dream

I saw little Alice, she was asleep.

The sound of the beeping monitors didn’t wake her up.

Nothing will wake up little Alice anymore.

An Angel was on his knees near Alice bed.

I am sorry he cried.  I am so sorry.

I let go. For one second, I let you go.