VOID

The cold draft seeps through the windows
hovering over me with its claws.
The stench of stale cigarettes and whiskey
form a yellow coating of paint on the walls.
Freedom to escape is now,
but will to escape is no more.
Voices surround me, but none can be found.
My shadow is my only friend.

THE DAY THE KING OF POP DIED

It is 6:00, and the sound of “You Drive Me Crazy” wakes me.
My eyes are heavy from the lack of sleep I got last night.
As I lay in bed, I wish that I didn’t stay up to watch
that thriller movie, with a bowl of Orville Redenbacher
in my right hand, and my finger tips greasy with butter in
the other.

I pour a bowl of Kellogg’s Rice Krispies, as I prepare
myself for an ordinary day. The sound of snap, crackle, and
pop awakes my senses. It’s now 6:30 and time for EduKids.
I enter into a child’s world full of Crayolas and screams.

Hours pass by slower than the minutes, and now
I’m stuck in a traffic jam on the 33, while on my way
to classes. 30 minutes of English goes by,
as my Verizon vibrates while the teacher leaves
the room. As I check my text my eyes scurry across
the screen. The King of Pop, MJ, the Gloved One,
The Voice of Generations has gone silent.

As I sit in my beat-up Hyundai, Janet and Nick play
his soul to be heard by millions. I begin to sing along
to one of his hits: “You are not alone, I am here with you.
Though we’re far apart, You’re always in my heart.”
Life isn’t about the years you live, but what you make
of the years you do live.