Richest Man In Babylon

He sat in a cliche bar overlooking the ebbing tides. Only in his dreams had he ever fantasized about being on an exotic beach like this, money, power, he had it all. But at what cost? He had a mansion off the cliff, it was larger than the state's capitol building, but he was the only one to call it home.

His life now is just a blur, and his life fom long ago seems like stories which have been lost in translation. He had loved, and he had lost, over and over again. He lived a prideful life, he didn't know why or with whom, but he was always competing, always trying to prove himself better than everyone else.

He had only been with her for a few months, and that was a lifetime ago, but the pain of that still clung with him. He'd heard whispers of her, she was a mother of three married in some suburb... happy.

He would trade it all in just for her, he always had and always will.

You'll Have Time

They were separated by inches, but it had begun to feel like miles. He longed to go back to that that familiar feeling, he prayed desperately for her to feel the same way and reach for his hand... alas no such luck.

The realization of a complacent lonely solitude fell over him. There was going to be time. She's so enticing with no need for actual effort.

-She has my number, and she knows exactly how to read me. I can see it in her eyes, there's something there but I've done all I can do to pull it out any further. Oh just a bit further.

His thoughts had consumed him, they would not fleet at any instance, it was a shameful misfortune.

Company Calls

Anika wakes up from a mid-morning nap; she rolls over and sees that it's half pass eleven. The pressures and responsibilities of her world came flooding, pushing at the forefront of her mind--her list of "to do's," and miscellaneous errands. She fights back that feeling of sadness which seems to be consuming her being now. It's too lovely a day and she yearns to go and frolic in the park, just as a young sprite would do.

A young sprite? Who is she kidding, this isn't a fairytale. There's no mystical wooded area, she's a city girl, but the sun streaming through the shades is still very enticing and captivating.

What Do You Go Home To

It was going on to the 27th hour of straight driving, his eyes were getting heavier, she was sitting in the seat right next to him, growing restless with every second. The clouds opened up and the rain came falling, torrential wasn't enough to describe it. The tires tread worn down practically to the rim, he should've pulled over hours ago but he was on a mission. Who knew if they were going to make it in time. David was growing weak each minute, they had to make it. There had never been a point in history where time was of the essence to them.

The interstate was dark, they hadn't seen another car in hours, were they even on the road anymore? Her restlessness had begun to grow into fury, she begged him to pull over so she could drive. He insisted he had it under control, yet reluctantly he pulled off the road.

Frustrations flared and he got out of the car. He just needed a break, he needed a change, fresh air would do him some good. They had an exchange of words, and she sped off, leaving him there.

The Piece

Grace and Steve sat out on the trampoline; it was warm out with a cool breeze bringing in that sweet summer smell. They stared up at the stary sky watching the firefly's enact a beautiful ballet. Steve reached over for Grace's hand and clasped it so tight, she turned to him and smiled. They turned their eyes back to the sky.

Steve sat there feeling a sense of contentment that felt so elusive for so long. What he imagined, had never lived up to this.

Walking Down The Stairs (Liar)

Mike slams through the bottom floor door; the sky's grey, the sun's hanging low, and there's a gloom that rests over the cityscape. He flips up the lapelle's on his jacket, trying to catch a little warmth, he lets out a cold exhale, and thrusts his hands into his pocket.

All he could think of was her limp body laying across the bed, dead to the world, dead to him... dead in general. It pained him to see her like that every time. He couldn't think about it, he just couldn't -- he shook his head. No luck. He did it again... there was just no use, anytime he closed his eyes her image was ingrained on his eyelids.

Into The Galaxy

It was Vick's 9:30 class, it just so happened to be a Wednesday. He loathed every morning; going to it meant leaving a warm bed and the body next to him. He would walk down the stairs and start the pot for his coffee, meander over to the sofa and take that extra 5 minutes to zone out. He'd slam his drink as he read the news and hurry into his clothes. He'd toss the ipod on and biked to class.

The journey wasn't long, only about a song's length, often there was some discontent with its briefness. He slid into the bike racks as he skidded over the melting ice -- an inaudible mumble is all that left his lips, as he hit the frame next to him. He locked his bike up, rubbing his bruised thigh and trudged into his class.

He took his seat up front, not that it would matter in a lecture hall of 400. It was his morning Religions class, and they were beginning Christianity, it just so happened to be Ash Wednesday. Vick had never spoke much in class, one's voice in a sea of faces seemed redundant; he'd pay attention, but often times he would just write and listen to his music... On this of all days his professor began to speak with such ignorance, that a quiet studious individual such as Vick, couldn't take it anymore.

Evil Ways

Clark had always been bullied, from kindergarten to high school. He was quite frankly the communal punching bag, a role he played to his fullest, and shockingly with very little complaint. I never really saw much anger or pain in him, and though it never felt like we were incredibly close we were all each other had.

We sat in front of the school every morning, we didn't want to be late, what can I say? Never prone to making eye contact let alone any other communicative out-reach we would sit there condescendingly speaking on Voltaire and Kafka, childish interpretations of literature I know even less about.

Your Bruise

The streets were crowded, and the rain was falling down in biblical proportions. Cal trekked 42nd, no umbrella, no jacket; just the veil of discomfort and regret covering him. Blood trickled from his brow and warmed his cheek as it made it's way down. His body, sore, battered and bruised.

-You bum!

A man yelled out as he ran into Cal. This didn't really effect him, not anymore. The bum looked how Cal always felt, a beaten piece of shit, garbage that could be tossed aside, and forgotten. At the same time it was freeing. He could now be able to act as he felt. Never in his wildest dreams did "get your ass kicked," equal positive life-change. Well sometimes we just need to get sense beaten into us.

American Mary

She looks out over the field of corn, the sun dances and shimmers in a brilliant pool of gold. She grabs the window looking out, holding the edges as tight as she can, his voice still ringing in her ears... the thought brings tears to her eyes, and she begins to choke up. It had been months since they had danced in the broken light, it had felt like years since she been held; his smell still hung in the air.

Chuck was a kind man, a friendly man, refused to do anything but live and love. He was a young man, late twenties. The two had been engaged for two years, and was only months away from tying the knot. He loved Mary there was never a question of that, he had always lover her and the day he died would be a testament to that feat.

Magik

And with a breath Ezra's world changes... The walls disappear behind, diverging into a whirlwind of colors. His eyes widen to take in the scene; a bottomless feeling consumes his senses. He's hooked, he's out of control and he's loving the uninhibited freedom. The exhilaration of an adrenaline pumping synthetic existence. Falling deeper and deeper into the void he looks around for some semblance of reality to bring him back... Sarah. Standing next to him, an innocent bystander found in the cross hairs of an over consumed soul. Grasping at her hands hoping for her to respond back he pulls her deeper down.

The two of them travel further and further into a scene of colors a world of ecstasy. A flood of warmth washes over their bodies; they collapse into each others arms. Holding within their grasp their temporal lover, a euphoric magic.

Love In The Ruins

I apologize for the video, but it's the only way I could get the song...



He leaves her house, defeated, beaten, broken down. Like a child he throws his hands into his jacket and hides behind the lapel's. The walk to his car couldn't have felt any longer, he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't be watching, but he couldn't shake the thought that there were eyes on him somewhere, hell it could've been some deity finding amusment in the circumstances.

How can he deny the feelings that have changed him so drastically, the light that has been let in and felt like it was quickly burning out? Defying in essence innate senses, and prescribed emotion; it's a hard pill to swallow. Years of work, a future dissolved, all within a few short words. He reaches the door of his car, shaking from head to toe, he manages to get the key in the door.

He begins to drive off, grasping the wheel with all force. Bare-knuckled and white fisted he lets out a loud cry. It's over and he knows it. As the realization eats his hope of any possibility, he realizes he'll rise from his ruined love.

Calendar Remix

A silence falls between them. Each one standing on edge waiting for a response. Minutes pass, feeling like days to each. He reaches to brush the hair from her brow, she turns her head away--forcing him to pull his hand back. At his defeat he stands, puts on his scarf and jacket; he slowly reaches for the door quietly hoping to hear one last plea from her. She turns to her side, his heart jumps... but it's for nothing. She gathers herself and steps out of the room, leaving him with a deafening silence, as he walks out.

She sits at the edge of her bed, afraid to look over her shoulder in fear of catching his glare from the pictures fixed on the wall behind her.

Each day after, she seems to fall deeper and deeper into a consuming darkness. Second guesses and "what-if's" plague her thoughts, as they're the last company she has.

The Land Beyond

He's driving down the interstate, an unknown stretch of road that has a familial sense to it. Still shook up from the exchange of words, he's determined on leaving and never coming back.

-There's a simple loss of faith... It's a lost cause, we're a lost cause and there's hardly anything which would keep us together. There's no tragedy in its end, merely in prolonging this feeling any further.

Perfect Crime

His body falls limp, a cold look is engraved in his eyes; his lips pursed as if trying to call for help, but the only sound made is the "thud" as his body falls limp on the ground.

BANG!!! Another shot rings out. Gunshots fired off by the bay as the work whistle blows, letting off the lowly night shift. The deafening cry of the whistle is loud enough to cover up the sounds of the gunfire, both send subtle waves through the harbor. The ambient glow of the city lights dance off the rain cascading around the pier. This time of year there was hardly any work that could be found, but the shipping season had been unusually strong this year.