Tennis Stories

She walks heavily on her feet,As she approaches a netted court;Her torso bounces in rhythmic beatAnd my heart sustains a petite mort. I breathe less when she is present,And I pause to study her frame;She is muscled to a greater extent,Than others of her game. She smiles and twirls with elegance,As she acknowledges the crowd;I sigh for I’m not relevant,“Sereee-naaa!” I scream out loud. Her lioness eyes often dare,And I can...

The side of my head flat against the ground.Bitter cold air makes it hard to breathe.Red gravel and purple skies. A sickening stench of rotten flesh, my senses have come to know.The Past tormenting, the Future terrifying - From the corner of my eye, it makes its way. Helplessly hopeless - I resort to prolonged self-denying. Never-mind living, when in death there's harmony.No tears, No fears, but a crier cries out '' Die R...