Will Power

She was on her normal route home, but it was dark, none-the-less.

She could do this drive in her sleep, and probably would have, if it weren't for that insistent buzzing coming from her phone, tucked tightly in the front pocket of her skinny jeans.

Whatever was happening was beginning to heat up her leg.

She knew better than to text and drive, but a feeling of dread washed over her, as if she was only one not in on a very funny joke.

It took her years to build her credentials and she would be damned to see it all washed away on a embarrassing tweet.

Or was it a text? Maybe it was Billy finally coming to his senses.

Could Amber be snap chatting another of her exclusive member only invites?

Did Beyonce rock the earths core with an unfiltered Instagram post?

She had another twenty minutes until she reached her destination, but her thoughts were killing her.

Surely, she could take a peek at her phone.  Just in case it was important.

Maybe Mom or Dad were texting. It was late and they were probably waiting up for her. 

Besides, the road was empty anyway. One glimpse wouldn't hurt.

She leaned back in her seat, and pushed the phone outline through the stretchy fabric of her skin tight pants, snaking it out of her front pocket.

Success!

The phone illuminated in the dark, but demanded a pass code.

She tried to open it with the touch of her finger, but the ID button wasn't working.

Annoyed, she began typing the code in, but mistyped the sequence.

Frustrated she threw it on the seat next to her.

The radio was playing a song, that she hadn't paid much attention to, until now.

It sounded familiar.

Was it Coldplay?

The singer had to be someone she knew.

The voices sounded so familiar, yet the song was a total mystery.

She pushed the info button on her radio to display the title.

Gold In Them Hills - Ron Sexsmith (Feat. Chris Martin.)

 The glow of her phone on the seat next to her caught her attention.

As she reached for it, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle down her spine.

She shivered as she began to type her code.

As it unlocked, a loud BANG interrupted her. The phone was thrown through the windshield and she was tousled from side to side.

Her last memory was the picture of her family dog, displayed on the wallpaper of her home screen, before her life was cut short.

Suspended upside down in a ditch, her body lied within a wreckage of smoke, glass, blood and oil.

Within a few feet, lied her phone.

It's glass face was shattered but their was still life in the old girl yet, as it powered itself to sleep.

Hush

The snow is blinding,
as I stomp through this god damn,
no good,
blinding blizzard.

The frost tickles the tip of my nose,
as I signal for help from those that pass by. 

When did snow start falling in the summer?

All the liquid in my gut is starting to harden,
as I feel the remnants of my soul freeze over.

God? If you exist, send a heat wave.

Have mercy on this unforsaken heart.

You of all people should know my hardships.

In fact, you might be the son of a bitch responsible for half of them.

The cold has invaded my veins.

It shouldn't be long now...

Rest Now

Prickly,
pestilence,
perpetuates
the poor,
while fat cat,
zodiacs,
dine in lore.

Rest now,
you retired,
weathered soul.

The fight is not yours,
it's for the youth.

You've done your due diligence.