50 Word Story: Maybe It Was Time

“What what the hell do you want from me”; John screamed at his crying wife! No matter how much overtime he worked there was never enough money to cover the bills.

The only thing he could think of was that maybe it was time to cash in the life insurance.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Feelings of Despair

Feelings of despair

Brought on by this hectic world,

Hopelessness abounds.

Could our connectedness be to blame;

Glowing screens of every shape and size?

Even in sleep there is no rest

For the modern mind will not quiet.

Discerning truth from fiction is ever more daunting

With the right and left screaming for attention.

I’ve forgotten what silence is like,

No notifications, no ringing, no television

…A simpler time.

Could it be time to power off

Leaving all things electronic black and lifeless?

It’s undeniable that those times were happier,

That families talked and people listened.

We walked with our heads up and smiles on our faces

Instead of head down and into poles.

Maybe twenty four hour news, tweets and likes are a cancer

Feasting on our teetering sanity.

I am a realist, I know the past is the past

To which we will never return,

But maybe a little self imposed downtime is in order

Just for a bit of nostalgia.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Pain You Cannot See

Pain you cannot see,

Can be heard–

In the wavering of words,

Can be seen–

In the worried expression.

Reliving the past in waking dreams;

Speaking to the invisible that seem so real;

Returning to the present awash with anger.

Ravages of war do not always leave visible wounds–

For the visible may be treated with scalpel and stitch.

That which is unseen may be the most devastating of all,

Lasting a lifetime,

Tormenting, demonizing, incapacitating,

Shattering the spirit.

We see this on the streets,

We see this in the shelters,

We see it on the cardboard signs

And in the tin cans held out by dirty hands,

No place is immune.

These are the ones we turn away,

Diverting our eyes,

Ignoring them as a nuisance,

Wishing they would just go away.

Does not their sacrifice grant them better?

They gave when called,

Offering life and limb;

Permitting us the pursuit of our happiness.

Yet what do we offer in return?

Nothing but contempt.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Love Lost in a Mind Field

By D. R. DiFrancesco


I turn to find you gone,

This windowless doorless prison smothers me,

Stilling my bloodied heart,

All that is left to me are tears.


Why did she leave, echos in my tormented head,

A whisper nagging at my last nerve,

Shuddering at the thought of abandonment,

Trapped and curled in a position most fetal.


Questioning my very existence,

I claw at the walls wailing for release,

Nails broken, crimson shards surround me,

Dropping to my knees I sit in utter defeat.


A darkness sets as I fall prone,

Naked and vulnerable the coarse stone chills me to the bone,

Jagged sharpness scars tender flesh,

Dulling the pain of your retreat.


I struggle for composure,

Reaching out in the dark praying for your touch,

Doomed, I’m left drowning in solitary silence,

Drenched in the perspiration of despair.


Why have I been left to this hellish place,

Did I not offer enough of myself to you,

Did I not cradle you in my loving passion,

What else could I have done?


Sobbing I struggle to breathe,

Lamenting your loss I pound at the blood stained floor,

Begging for merciful forgiveness,

Your reply…only suffocating solitude.


Passing seems imminent,

In desperation, euthanasia would be welcome,

I couldn’t have deserved such loneliness,

Quivering with exhaustion, I drift eternal sleep.


Startled in a flush of adrenaline,

Wringing with sweat I strain to rise,

Where have you been, dribbles from my jaw tight lips,

Her blue eyes speak, by your side, to my nightmarish dream.

Mind Games

Sorrowing Old Man – Vincent Van Gogh – 1890

By D. R. DiFrancesco


Drifting away,

Drowning in a sea of desperation,

Grasping for a life ring of sanity,

Just out of my reach.


I look within,

A swirling cyclonic mess embodies me,

Unrefined shapes and forms,

Seeking to undermine me at every turn.


This Impenetrable darkness,

That neither sun nor joy can imbue,

Why have I been cursed with this plague,

Delivering pain to the four winds of my soul.


Overwhelming sadness clutches me to her bosom,

Offering me nothing but anguish,

Have I not been tormented enough,

Stripped and laid bare to the elements.


God and science offer no comfort,

For the troubled mind worships it’s own demons,

I have prayed to exercise them,

Yet found the only panacea is time.


With night, slumber offers me respite,

Time for healing,

Calm for the erratic mind,

Hope for a clearer perspective at dawn.