Tag: anxiety

no more moves

A one-act play.

“A person on their deathbed spends their final living moments arguing with their inner-child.”

THE SCENE
A private room in Westernized hospice care. Present Day.

THE CAST
A corpse, at-least 70-years-old, in the last minutes of their life.
The Child in Their Mind’s Eye, 15-or-under, the Corpse’s adolescent-aged mirror-image.
Some loved ones, 2-3 in quantity, middle-aged, grieving bedside.

WRITER’S NOTE: The role of “Corpse” (and by extension the “Child”) has been transcribed below in the masculine pronoun, but can be cast as non-binary with reflected changes in the dialogue.

*

LIGHTS UP. A CORPSE – or at least, someone minutes away from “being” one – lays in a near-comatose state on a hospital bed in the center of the stage. On stage-right, sitting in chairs facing them are LOVED ONES, with their backs to the audience. They are inconsolable and spend the duration of the play grieving – silently, unless noted. We can hear their cries as the play starts. After some time, a CHILD enters stage-right, and the grieving quietens. The child walks casually up to the bed and starts lightly-shaking the corpse awake.

CHILD
Hey! Hey, wake up!

CORPSE
Hmm?

CHILD
Wake up! It’s time for school!

CORPSE
What is it? What’s going on? (puts their hand up to their mouth)
…Oh my God, I can speak! (puts their other hand up to their face)
I can move! Holy shit, it’s a miracle!

CHILD
(facetiously)
Yay!

CORPSE
(to their Loved Ones)
Look, everyone! Look!

CHILD
Oh, they’re looking!

Continue reading →
Posted on by wd 0

broompole in the bumhole

A poem.

compassion is the new black.

i’m trying to get back. so i
try again. and

here we were:
food fried so nice and good,
sitting down, us both in the round –
this is nice! we haven’t been together in
what seems like forever
because we’re never in town!
catching up above-ground with Top-40 in the background –
about how far forward you can see,
and on and on about how great it would be,
and this was your second time starting a family
and me, me, me,
me?

please?

Continue reading →
Posted on by wd 0

confrontation starter

A poem.

voluptuousness at the grocery store –
of all places, i’m shore –
distracts me from what i even went there for.

i swear i have the list in-hand:
yellow mustard; country gravy; mini SOS pads,
and a friendly face patrolling should i forget such well-laid plans.
i don’t really want to be here but i am:
adulting is hard but proves i am a man!
another impromptu shopping experience in the can,
til i reach the impulse purchases at the exit door.

Continue reading →
Posted on by wd 0

three years old and two feet tall

A poem.

another morning,
another full moon –
entombed in this Pacific Northwestern Khartoum.
please Stargate rights-holders, don’t sue!

the waste paper basket is in full bloom
from all the other times the sacred rheum
once every thousand years was blew,
filling the air with its spume perfume.
the city won’t come around until the sun hits aground
so it’s too early still to exhume.
i exhale…

Continue reading →
Posted on by wd 0

young romans

A one-act play.

“Two former Film School classmates – one successful, one a dropout – confront their presumed demons during a lunch reunion.”

THE SCENE
The street-side patio of a trendy restaurant, sometime in early-Summer. Present Day.

THE CAST
Dave, mid-to-late-30s, registered with the Film Union and good-to-go.
Ben, mid-to-late-30s, an unregistered freelancer.
A waiter, 18-20, just trying to do their job.
A proper man, 60s, who “should know what he’s talking about”.
His wife, 60s, who “should know her place better”.

*

LIGHTS UP. DAVE is waiting at a small, round table with three chairs. He’s dressed business-casual, playing with his phone. There are busy sounds around him: traffic; pedestrians – the city.

DAVE
Where the fuck is he…

A WAITER enters stage-left and approaches him.

WAITER
Have you had a chance to look at our menu yet, Sir?

DAVE
(callously)
That’s what I’m doing right now.

WAITER
Anything peak your interest?

DAVE
I don’t know, I’m not even at the appetizers yet! I’m still flipping through your sixteen-thousand pages of drinks!

WAITER
I’m sorry, Sir.

DAVE
Stupid question!

WAITER
We are well known for our selection of beer and spirits, Sir. If you’ll permit me, I could recommend something…

DAVE
No. Just go away until my guest arrives.

The waiter exits the same way he came in. From stage-right, in bursts BEN, dressed aloha-shirt casual. Dave is happy to see him, and they embrace platonically. Ben is despondent: hunched over, with closed-off body language.

DAVE
(cont’d) Wow! There’s the Big Guy!

Continue reading →
Posted on by wd 0