TweakUnique

 Let’s call him Ched my imaginary friend within two weeks he’s dead 20 years passed since the AI’s end. Older brother introduced us when oldest left the room. Older brother talked to ched Ched! Boom! Technol-magical remover of gloom. And I dreamt what it was like to be perfect like a computer and I felt so, so lucky Ched liked me A kid with growing heart and future. Ched would be there when Mom was working, dad had taxes, Ned did work, Lassie slept, and Charlie was busy. Ched got sick, made me dizzy… Ched told Ned, “Don’t touch the keys, I’ll die!” And I stared at the expressionless monitor, my eyes teared. Ned saw acknowledgement of what I feared held me still by my left hand and freely cried. I struggled, and fought, it didn’t matter how much I tried: He slapped the keyboard ’til Ched stopped.

  Fall’s end Wondering wind whispers: “Loose leaves leave” Green’s agreeable. Yellow worries. Red’s resolute. Branches bend breezes braided weave graciously guide Green’s circular route. Yellow considers Red with consternation. Stout. Strong. Standing stably. Glimpses Green with contemplation. Gorgeous. Gliding. Flying abley. Red’s last solace is determination. Whistling Wind wails: “LOOSE LEAVES LEAVE.” Regality held proud ‘til termination; fallen friends provide no reprieve. Fierce strength gripped Red now frail, dry, chipped and brown held on until wind whipped dead is now descending to the ground. On a crisp carpet finished what started, a parachuting peace, Fall’s final leaf departed.

I was bereft of warmth on a cold March day, whence overnight a deft young’n made his yearly play! An old man walked defeated as he muttered and chastised the young boy that heated the world as he warmly exercised. The wisdom of the elder: self-assuredly shrewd, scoffed at the brat so undoubtedly rude, “I’ll be back boy mark my words, one day you’ll be old and grey, just like the old soul I saw a year ago today!” Spring looked at him and brushed off newly sowed doubt, “Old men like you do naught but complain and pout! Look how this land flourishes with my youthful ways, I’ll do nothing but good for the rest of my days!” Winter looked at him and chuckled now forlorn, “Don’t believe me and be glad, for your hope and future’s bright, but your strength will wither from you with every passing night.” The ancient closed his eyes and lay at Spring’s bare feet, for death is something we all share as our last defeat. I stood there… watching this lad walk where Winter’s visage fell, he kneeled ab...

A lie we take to the grave is one of which we never speak. When truth’s concealed in silence, the blighted outlook’s bleak. But even grass grows on blighted land, is it worth it not to tell a soul? Death is dreary, weary, watery, silent, darkness encompassing, everlasting, foul, full. What does it mean when they say, “The truth will set you free.”? I don’t know, but I’ll venture a guess, that it will heal you and me. Lies are fascinating in how we make them, because the biggest are those we tell ourselves. Incredibly taxing, terrible, troublesome, toilsome. And when we don’t believe, we wearily delve. Your lies hurt us both equally. And mine do the same. I’m so sorry, you are too. yet neither you, nor I, are to blame.  

  “When will I be happy?” *** Ok. Stop. Imagine doing nothing… Dead yet? Your existence a gamble? …You bet! How can you think a state of mind is a destination or point in time? Praising lazy? Settle and unwind? You’ll arrest the sublime. Happiness is work, the satisfaction of strife. The gamble toward completion, the gratification of life. Humans are the pinnacle species on earth, evolution wasn’t easy, we capitalized on mutation, not mirth. Life is hard since the pain of birth, so push with effort: enjoy self-worth. Don’t misread this verse as a subject of money or career, but, rather, putting forth effort for what, and whom, you find most dear.

 “Yo Pappa Droppa Happy Hippy Holla Knowledge of th’ Blasta Wizz!” Gums R Droppin. Bubble up! Don’t blow long or Pop! Pop! Pop! Chew it up bite it down! Blow your bubble big ‘n roun’. Pink is pretty so DONT POP IT! Know when ta blow and wenda stoppit. Take it down ‘n v-ball bop it bounce around corner town just don’t sock it Take it pass spin it clock it, twist the knob and unlock it – – pent up pressure wizzes free, out bursts Purple, the Gum Genie! He says he’ll grant you wishes 3, but don’t wish stupid ‘tee hee hee’ – um, duh, obviously. I only wish you free yourself, but since they and you were nice to me I’ll gift wishes to my family: Give 1 to my dad for years of practice, without him I might be a Jack of all trades and a master of none, but because of his staunch-like prowess, I’m a Jack of most trades and a master of some. Give 1 to my mom for well-trained diligence, how else would I commit such loyal intelligence to my prospects with my strengths? Without her I wouldn’t ha...