KIRK B FORSETH II

    I sit patiently by my beloved’s bedside And there I will remain with no one to confide She twitches in agony with each twist and turn It will not be long before she will start to burn Now, more dominant on her face are the freckles No longer does the handkerchief have red speckles I pray that I could ease her suffering and pain Her moans grow louder and are driving me insane Another red eruption, she calls out my name I know when I see her face, it won’t be the same I wipe away the fluid from her gentle cheek Knowing that the outcome will be horrid and bleak Her life is slowly leaving her emerald eyes Her smile never comes, no matter how hard she tries Her lungs struggle with each breath she attempts to take With each exhale, her whole body begins to shake The grief in my heart is too much for me to bear More so when I look in the pale horse rider’s stare I pick up the bottle of drink to calm me down But even that cannot end my ...

                            It was at the end of 1978, and the Caffertys were in the process of adopting the newest member of their family. Eric was excited as he would have a playmate, the parents’ other son. The two things that they knew were that the mother and father couldn’t afford to keep him, and that his parents were crackheads. They knew that the poor child was going to go through withdrawals, but other than his mother being a piece of shit, everything on the ultrasound was coming up aces for the child. Eric was thrilled to have a new sibling; he gave the child his prized toy car collection. Nearing a hundred cars in total, he used a gutted-out portable record player’s case to transport them.             Before they were to get Denny, they had a sit-down with the three of them. It was directed at Eric, as they saw him as the weakest link in this...

  A grove of weeping willows in decay The impending doom fills all with dismay Guarded by an ominous black steel gate It definitely knows no time or date Always gloomy is this foreboding place Such a relief to see an angel’s face From a distance, they’re imperceptible You’re welcome, for all are acceptable You can always find the ones you’re seeking Silence is golden for no one’s speaking Knowledge coming from the deep impressions None holding onto worldly possessions All shapes and sizes with the marbled mark Remember to leave before it gets dark Some visitors are often heard sobbing While the other choose to do some robbing The residents never have grunts or groans One day you’ll be in this garden of stones