History, as inspired by B. Wilson

"No one likes history.
It's so old"
Mistakes of the past belong in
Battered forgotten textbooks
     life needs no instructing
     It is cyclical. It is preset.
What happened then is happening
     now
It's so old
But it's no longer history

Deafening

A room is filled with silence.
I am pressed against the air
     With no chance of escape
The air is heavy and slow, weighing down...
My arm extends (slowly) to grasp at
An object I cannot see
     Due to the sheer density in the room
Lethargically, I blink in order to
Stay awake.

The silence is deafening.

I cannot hear.

Is that why it's silent? Ears clogged
With nothing?

I'm losing the battle against the air
     So much for peace and quiet

Scavenger Hunt Assignment

panic stalking yeards behing

couldn't catch

and I explore a twitch, a tree

now choked on my own habitual route.

eye on the drought,

she signs with the lion

sounds short, palms bared, foraging sensitivity.

My special one snorts and gave up

Drowning at Breakfast

A little something using the words ocean, empire state building, oatmeal, and X box. 

My bowl of oatmeal stretches on and on during the course of this taxing breakfast, taking the exact same direction of the last twelve meals. I don't want to be here. Neither does my watery oatmeal. It's an ocean. And I'm drowning.
No, I don't feel like going to the Empire State Building. We did that yesterday. (Of course you forgot. Were you even there?)
Yes I like my X box you got me. (Surprised? I'm sure. I mean, since when do I like you.)
The voice drones on and on and passes over my head. I'm not listening. I'm just staring at my oatmeal. And it's staring back. His voice is pushing my head closer and closer to the bowl. I'm going to drown. I don't think he cares. But does it matter?

Keep the Lantern Prime

If I were a lighthouse I would
bring you home.
I would search miles of empt sea
just to spot you the
moment you return.
My yellow gaze
would pierce through layer upon
layer of foggy night as a makeshift sun for you to follow.
And through the haze of
each and every day I would
weep lighthouse tears and keep
the lantern prime for when
the night falls.

And I'll still be waiting for you.
Stoically standing guard, helping
others land safely,  but all the while
waiting for you.