The virus in you

Aren’t we enjoying this dance?

Totally bound entranced?

I could watch you die for all time!

To cut the show short is a crime!

The plague swims its way into your body but then

Its most dazzling spectacle is what happens when!

What we thought was so immortal comes tumbling down!

And with it, our leaders stupid smiles crumble into frowns!

Who knew the End would be so sweet?

Not I, but I’ll savor every single tweet!

The smoke from Babylon rises to the nostrils of God.

Sweet smelling incense on our way to the land of Nod.

Should I be dancing in the midst of all this calamity?

Are my feet so swift to shed blood in this insanity?

I am like a great raven black, winged and full of death!

The monster at the edge of your world with dragon’s breath!

I am here to live!

Finally I can live!

The world gave up the ghost

So now I am your humble host!

-CL Fuqua

End of my world

It began with the unthinkable. Sideways glances towards one another in the closely-knit community. Where once was fraternity and trust, without warning, doubt and suspicion crept in. It didn’t take long after that for war to break out like a flood through eroded dams. Natural disasters spurred on by the shifting ecology ushering in apocalyptic vistas. We didn’t see the portent of doom. The prophet’s cries went unheeded. Was it always destined to end up this way? Is it a question of predestiny? Is there destiny? Monuments cracked, splintered and finally fell. The symbols of our past crumbled before our eyes as the blood soaked bodies piled higher and higher to take their place. Pestilence and sickness on wind’s wings swept through us like a demon unhindered. Panic and fear finished off what was left. It was not the end of the world. It was the end of my world.

-CL Fuqua


“The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.”

I’ve descended into a frenzy of hunger and thirst. I didn’t know a human could be this thirsty. It’s been at least a week since I was stricken in this bed. My roommate left for a week long family vacation the night it happened. He’s come home since but suspected nothing. He doesn’t know I haven’t left this bed all that time. My spine was in a particularly agitated state that fateful morning. I twisted and turned to alleviate that gnawing sensation between my shoulder blades but to no avail. All day I worked and went about my business with it slowly building in intensity. Like a sticky spiderweb creeping its way from the middle of my back outwards until I couldn’t stand it anymore. That evening as I laid in bed I contorted in every conceivable way to get one glorious crack. Just a solitary ecstatic pop to release the pain and melt my skeletal grief into blissful oblivion. It finally came! I had set a tennis ball right on the spot that ached most and forced my spine down upon it with all my might. My back protested in agony but I persisted until *CRACK*… ahhhh sweet relief. I lay there for a few minutes before deciding to move off the ball and get to sleep but as I turned my head the rest of me wouldn’t follow. I strained and strained but the legs, the arms, the shoulders, nothing except my neck and head could do anything! I lay there, a living head on top of a dead man’s body. I yelled and screamed but in vain. My roommate was already gone and I was in my room locked from the inside. I descended into a panicked maelstrom, yelling and screaming until my voice gave out with the rest of my body. All the mental and physical straining caused me to pour sweat. One week later I still lay, so thirsty. I can see a cup of water on my night stand a mere 2 feet away. I’ve begged God to make it tip over and spill onto my face. It is an insurmountable task. I could no sooner reach for that cup than pull the titanic with a rope. I’ve seen 2 or 3 roaches come out of hiding as I lay here day after day. They’re rather large. Glossy brown with antennae pattering the floor and wall as they scurry here and there. I would give away my wallet and credit card if one would mercifully crawl into my mouth.

Suddenly a glimpse of hope shone through my darkness as I heard from a short distance someone turning a key in the front door and entering the house. My roommate! Had it really been a whole week since I lay here?? I heard him walking heavily to his room. He must be carrying his bags in. I strained to call out but my throat was parched and already hoarse from screaming for days. A barely audible groan weakly seeped out. He heard nothing and I could tell he had turned in for the night. I silently wept but held onto hope that he would come to check on me in the morning.

Morning came as I lay there sleeplessly watching with my weary eyes the daylight chase the night away. I heard him moving about in his room and as he exited his room he knocked quietly to tell me he was heading to work and would be going straight to a friend’s afterward to spend the evening there. My throat and neck muscles contorted in agony! Pure desperation to try and move something, anything! I breathlessly screamed and screamed but all for naught. My dehydrated and starving body wasn’t capable of even a whimper at this point. He hesitated as if waiting for a response but then left closing and locking the front door behind him. I wept until my body could no longer produce any tears. Why has this happened…..

That very night as I went in and out of consciousness from pure exhaustion and malnutrition I thought I heard a rustling and clicking across the hardwood floor. It sounded too large to be a roach. Was it coming from my room or outside? I was hard to be completely sure in the pitch blackness of whatever late hour it was. I slowly slipped back into sleep like it was a warm bath. I don’t know how long I was out until I was suddenly awoken by a crunching then a loud crack followed by moist and mushy squelching. Something was in my room. I could smell something definite. Blood. That iron smell. It was presumably mine but I couldn’t do anything about it. It went on and on until the daylight slowly crept in and I summoned what little strength I had to peer down at the edge of my bed. At least two rats had made their way into my room. Large ones. I’ve never seen a proper rat before. Just mice. Are they always this large? The sheets were soaked in blood. Much of my bones were expose with raw flesh hanging off in strips. I would’ve puked but there was nothing left. Nothing besides blood which was quickly on its way out.

*Knock knock*

Knock at the door

*Knock knock*

“Who’s there?”

That’s funny….

-CL Fuqua

Reflections by the fire Deux

“My old friend I hope you know just how truly cherished these times by the firelight are for me.” I said, watching a smoke ring slowly ascend into the dimly lit study.

“Yes it is for me as well.”

“Speaking of cherished things I was reflecting the other day on ghosts.”


“Yes, you see, I have on frequent occasion been abruptly awakened out of sleep sticking to my sheets in a cold sweat and frightened beyond all reasonable measure. My eyes frantically dart hither and thither expecting to see a dreadful apparition. Like something from a Dickens tale!”

“Ho ho, oh goodness! Well have you seen this phantasm? And I thought we were speaking of cherished things, dear friend?”

“Yes yes, I’m coming to that. You see, I haven’t actually witnessed any figure manifestly present itself and for many tortured nights I struggled to identify the source of my infernal agitation.”

I took a minute to pause, dragging long on the pipe as the hypnotic crackle of the smoldering log spoke in our silence. My friend knowing me well also took the opportunity to look after his pipe and admire the fire’s unsteady glow.

“I came to the amazing realization” I continued “that I had been having pleasant and cheerful dreams prior to these evil awakenings. And not mere dreams of fantasy but concrete memories from times past. Friends and loved ones sharing meals, laughter, conversation, TIME together! You remember many of them I’m sure. Holidays, religious gatherings, or just the monthly escape from the monotonous trudge of day to day life.”

I took a second to swallow hard.

“They’re all gone now. They’re my ghosts and they are in the past with those memories. How on earth I have come to survive them I cannot say… but I consider it a curse. These moments with you, my most faithful friend, are of the scarce snippets of happiness I have left. My friends and family are all gone. I wish I had more time to eat and drink together, laugh together, and embrace. But alas, all I am left with are the ghosts of their memories. They haunt me.”

-CL Fuqua

Pixel love

Unnatural colors of neon dance across my face as I watch you dance

You move with abnormal grace in ways which leave my will with no chance

No woman ever looked as good to me as in this moment in time

No woman made my passion burn dispelling all reason and rhyme

What is good and bad? I don’t think I care anymore

Am I happy or sad? Just please me a second more

When we’re done will you still love me?

When the storm blows over who are we?

If only I could incarnate flesh for you my pretty pixelated girl

You could be as real as I want, my own touchable fantasy world

Neon shades of pink and blue glowing in the night with my lust

Automatic cybernetic dances pulsating sex with every lifeless thrust

All I dream of is you dancing for me while becoming whole

The more I dream the less human I feel as if losing my own soul

When we’re done will I be as synthetic as you?

Will my dying eyes finally forget what’s true?

-CL Fuqua

Love in World War 3

Persian sands glowing in the Arbian night

Blood rain falls with the old gods might

We made something new they couldn’t match

We made death on a scale they couldn’t catch

But I still wanna be right here hand in hand with you

Your wanting eyes illumined with a radioactive hue

We can fade away from existence embracing our everythings

You my one and only and all disintegrating into my nothings

What we had was fiery and uncontrollable as the Eastern sands

But the flame of our love can’t withstand the god of war’s demands

So breathe into me one last time baby

I only hope you live a second longer maybe

Our love was always doomed to be as unforgiving as the sea

Because you and me we had to fall in love in World War Three

-CL Fuqua

Inspirational dilemmas

I don’t know that anyone has missed my postings but I still feel the need to provide an explanation. I have the unfortunate dilemma of finding myself at my most “inspired” when I’m driving to work. The conditions are rather perfect. Except for the whole being able to write in that moment part. So finding the time to sit with just the right atmosphere and location to hammer out what I felt during that drive is most difficult. But enough excuses. I will try and do better. I am paying for this site after all! In other semi-related news I may have a writing project coming up in spring of this year. I’m brainstorming the details of it with a photographer friend. If it looks like it will come to fruition I will shed further light. Thanks to anyone who reads my site and hopefully finds something meaningful in it!

-CL Fuqua

Night drive

Low lit room with a hundred souls between us

Oceans of stories and desires filling up their lusts

Brown eyes killing me steadily in ways I know oh so very well

My blue eyes are a sea of passion but she’s not thirsty I can tell

So I smile at her, wishing she saw me for the man I aspire to be

If she only assented to hold my hand I would conquer the world for her freely

But aren’t all love stories best when tragedy looms ahead?

When we hope and pray for the princess but lose instead?

So let her perfection drive me onward to my end as long as I remember her wistful gaze

I can die a bleeding bloody mess but smile from that memory, lost in my romantic haze

-CL Fuqua


So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I think I’ll be okay

I made the wounds in my wrists so deep

I watched the crimson rivers begin to seep

My memories flooded like the blood

Triumphs and failures clear as mud

Ever since I was a boy the first thing I knew was sadness

I saw the slow dying of life and learned of death’s badness

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I’ll think I’ll be okay

I tightened the rope around my neck

Took my last breath saying what the heck?

My body tumbled down obeying gravity

Like the sins of my past in their depravity

The involuntary tremors making me flop like a fish on land

The body’s begging for a thimble of air or a rescuing hand

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I think I’ll be okay

Loading the pistol with the right ammo for the task

I need maximum damage for all the filth in which I basked

Would it take one hollow point to the brain or two?

How many girls were victim to my lust, just a few?

One is too many so I will load the cold gun all the way

Cock back and a flash sends my head into gory disarray

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I think I’ll be okay

Just one more my discerners I promise it’ll end soon

The tales I spin are pieces of a whole perfectly hewn

My final death was in oil and water among holy things

It was on a cross I carry daily while my angel gently sings

This suicide doesn’t evoke past sins and misgivings

It beckons me ahead to celestial glory and thanksgivings

It is certainly as bloody a death as all the rest

But it leads to the end with our one last test

So what’s left to say?

In the end if I hate less and love more

I think I’ll be okay

-CL Fuqua

Love I knew

Twinkling light dances off your hair and shimmering eyes

November night gifts me the sight of your breath in sighs

Barely perceptible but every bit a part of who you are

Such is the love between us burning and pushing oh so far

I found myself in places I said I’d never be only because it was with you

I stretched morality and conviction to the limits simply for the view

Waking up next to you still wrapped in passion and delight

Unforgettable if not a little regrettable in light of the light

But you don’t exist anymore as I swirl the memory in my brain

I could knock on your old door but the girl answering won’t be the same

The love I knew is no more and the whole world cries

A part of me died and won’t revive no matter who tries

Love I knew

Was not true

-CL Fuqua