....TAPS....

    Sitting alone, like a ghost in the darkness, drinking to old memories.


    Drinking with his two buddies, Jose Cuervo and Corona. Toasting to his two best friends,


    Pain and Misery.


    Talking to old photographs, wishing they would talk back. Dressing himself in full class 'As'


    and jump boots. Spit-shined and polished.


    Staring at a soldier who's staring back at the man who stands all alone with glassy eyes,


    as Taps plays on the stereo in the room.


    He sits hugging a bottle close to his chest, it's semi-square edges, so warm in his embrace. So


    warm to his body, as he takes another drink.


    And Taps plays on...repeat after repeat.


    He looks out of the window and stares up at the night sky and thinks that maybe he would like to


    touch the moon...drink up the stars...run across the dark sky and never stop until he reaches the


    end.


    The cool night breeze drifts through the open window. Candle flames sway to the mood. Shadows


    dance slowly across the walls and floor.


    And Taps plays on.


    He stands before the long mirror, staring at a soldier at attention and he recognizes war in his


    face twinged with sadness in his glassy eyes.


    And Taps plays on.


    He remembers funeral details from the past and he hears the shots from the twenty one
   
   
    salute echo in his memory.


    The song comes to another end as he raises his hand and he hears,


    "Ready! Aim! Fire!"


    And Taps plays on.












Written in 1998
Published in December 2015
by AnDrew S.
Title: TAPS.

.... NOID....

  Laughing; Whispering...Security is three hundred and sixty degrees...
    Voices all around and their whispering about 'you'...What do they say?
Check the starter under the car...Check the lug nuts and break lines...
Continually change lanes while watching the rear view mirrors...How long has that car been following?
    Using the ground floor window rather than the door...Trip wire at every doorway in the home...
Fell on my face going to piss last night.
Trap door in the closet is covered by a rug...It leads to a concrete, windowless, basement where I sleep at night...
    My shotgun is the lover with whom I share my bed...My pistol is my companion...A zip-locked Glock beneath the spray of a hot shower.
    Next to my shoes, under my bed, lays a pro-mask...The water bottle on the kitchen counter is laced with Visine. Or is it arsenic?
Are the mirrors still watching long after they've been broken?...All the meat in the freezer contains E.coli...Living on military style MREs...Wood dowels in every window...Steel doors and door frames at every entrance way...Checking the Scotch tape on all of the windows and doors.
    Wearing NVGs, cruising down the street with the headlights off,
parking on the back block...
I dream that my demise will be an arsonist mouse whom will burn down my house with a stolen match while I sleep...Putting out poison and traps baited with smoked cheddar...
    Bugs are everywhere, listening...The meter man is talking to himself...I paid that kid a dollar to start my vehicle...
The television plays subliminal messages...That woman was just at the market and now she's here at the book store...She's feigning interest, or perhaps disinterest...Depending.
    Everyone has a shadow...Is it watching? Why does it follow so closely? Can it be lost, or removed? One's shadow?
Lying in the dark where one can feel safe...Is one's shadow in the darkness with thee? Watching?
    The phone is ringing...too scared to pick up...answering machine will get it...Got to find a pay phone down town to call back from...
It's June...Why does one wear these calf skin leather gloves? There's S.T.D.s on every toilet seat and on every woman's lips...
    That waitress just smiled...What's she done to the food? Is it her own private joke? Why did she say, "Hope you enjoy"? I better go...
Is that man wearing a hearing aid or a transistor receiver? Why does he wear a jacket in warm weather?...He's pretending to read a news paper...
    Got to remember to keep the matches in the fridge away from a mouse's reach...
Why did the crickets stop chirping outside?...It's too quite...Can't even hear a whisper...
A whisper...What are they saying?
    Alien abductions...Circles in a corn field...Electoral college...J.F.K.-K.I.O....Invisible planes...Why does a blind woman wield a sword?
Can they hear the baby crying in it's mother's womb? Can they hear one's internal voice of unreason? Will there ever be rest for the weary?
    HELP.






Written in 1998.
Published in December 2015.  
AnDrew S. 
(Written from an interest and intuitive observation into human psychology)
(The irrational sentence structure represents the irrational nature of the subject.)