Monday, March 18, 2013

The Cost

By Nick Silverpen:

Receipts here suck, in the fact that you see it drop, the amount of money you have left, 
crumpled up paper 
bringing on sweat.

“You’ve X Dollars Left” 
or a twenty turns to a ten
turns to a five
turns to a few cents

and then thinking crap
where did all of my money go

Makes me think, 
that whatever we buy
is being frugal really worth it
but there are bigger things
purchases we have to worry about,
stuff that looms like an umbrella
and limits your sight in the rain.

I look at my receipt, 
and think where did my money go,
why couldn’t I have held out my hunger a little longer,
why couldn’t I’ve eaten what I already bought?

Soon that X, as big as it may loom,
is in the end, a definitive number, trickling closer and closer to zero

and mooching,
it works for only so long,
but why do we have to lose, and have to watch another number gain?


By Janus:

High Price
I still remember, long before that tragic mistake. God I remember, a happy life, joyous feelings--the world made sense back then. But that was before, and this is now, the price has been paid and that price is my innocence--no longer am I blinded by the veneer of kindness, or entranced by the spell of justice. There's no such thing, mercy, justice, compassion--just meaningless words that we made up to pacify ourselves, make ourselves believe that there's something worth fighting for. But the truth is, there's nothing in this world that can be possibly worth such a high price.

I look at the crumpled piece of paper in my hand, but I can barely bear to look at the ink staining the pages. What a momentous joke all of this is. When something can be ripped from you so cavalierly, as though nothing really matters. It kind of puts thing in perspective, honestly. We're nothing--we're less than nothing, mere specks in the cosmic dance, blowing back and forth, dancing for masters we can hardly comprehend. A commander gives an order and a soldier follows--but does the soldier know why? Does he know about the multitude of generals sitting around and discussing how easily his life can be thrown away? I doubt it. Nobody wants to think about that.

But this piece of paper in my hand won't let me forget, won't give me peace or understanding. There's no longer any respite from the darkness that lurks in our hearts, it's all played out in the words on that paper.

Finally I can bear it no longer, there's no hiding from what can plainly be seen in my hand. I sigh heavily and read the ink-stained paper.

Seventy-five dollars--seventy-five dollars on shoes? I thought it was a buy-one get-one off sale. The cost that was far too high has been paid...

My kid had better be friggin' happy.

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