David Stringer's Page

Should I care?
This isn't sarcasm
I truly need to know
With all you throw at me
I no longer can discern
What should tighten my heart

If it's crimson, it's golden
But the rays overwhelm me
Through porcelain you tell me
Of shaken babies and drive-bys
You leave me angry and indignant
But, ultimately, only helpless

So bring your investigators
Away from would-be molestors
Long enough to find some clues
As to where life lost value
And answer the simple question
Should I care?

I am lucid

But not sure if I am knowing

I am moving

But only going through the motions

I love

But can't say that I'm loving

I am living

But can't find my pulse

I have responsibilities

But don't know that I am responsible

I'm thirty-nine

But am I an adult?

I am knowledgeable

But not sure if I know anymore......

It is what it is

No more, no less

It is life

It is the lack thereof

I care, I don't

Sometimes all at once

It is fulfilling

It is a void

All that is light

All that is dark

Celebrated nothings

Subtle revelations

No more, no less

It is what it is

Chapter I: The Widow Bayless

Elizabeth Bayless was a young widow. As opposed to most widows, her husband was, at that moment, six feet above the traditional six feet under. Her widowship, if such a word existed, was caused by Rick Bayless’ attachment to a word processor rather than the Grim Reaper’s attachment to him.

Rick was an author whose works had been steadily climbing up the Bestseller List over the past five years. His novels centered around a medieval knight and his adventures. He was… Continue