Imagine That {A Short Story Poem}

Cartoonist Martin Wright draws a figure that jumps off the page....literally.

Martin Wright was lonely and it had him quite depressed,
he knew that cigarettes killed folks but nothing quite like stress,
professional and personal; he was all by himself,
if only he could find a woman to supply his health.

He made a ton of money drawing comic strips for kids,
but Martin would give all of it to have the chronic gift,
of love to share with someone who'd reciprocate it true,
instead the sadness swallowed him; a dissipated dude.

On this night in particular he sat there at his board,
where all his drawings came to life; they were all that and more,
see Martin had a deadline for his syndicated strip,
but on this night he drew a blank which indicated this,

he so dwelled on his loneliness his brain had soaked it up,
like spongy paper towels and it wouldn't open up,
so Martin thought to deviate and dream the world his stage,
by breaking from the strip to draw his dream girl on the page.

He started with her eyes and colored them a shade of blue,
so rich it would've made the skies and oceans hate 'em too,
then penciled in her figure; five foot three weight one fifteen,
he thought this as a fantasy and figured one could dream.

Her hair was chocolate brown above her eyes and perky nose,
her legs went on for days; I'm talkin' thighs and perky toes,
and when Martin was finished such a vision egged him on,
he took one look and instantly he called his girl Shavonn.

The clock read 12:14 as in the midnight hour came,
and Martin was surprised and shocked to see five hours came,
and went like that so off to bed he sauntered satisfied,
and would complete his strip with all tomorrow at his side.

Sometime During The Night....

Martin tossed and turned like laundry in a wash machine,
a good night's sleep is so expensive when the cost is free,
the scent of perfume opened up his eyes and next to him,
Shavonn lay in the flesh; he thought it'd be the death of him.

"I want your body bad" she said with a seductive smile,
and Martin figured he was dreaming so he touched her while,
she touched him back in places which then led to truer sex,
as he knocked her galoshes from the bed to Budapest.

The Next Morning....

"What in the blue blazes?!" Martin asked while sittin' back,
and looking as his bed linens were strewn in this and that,
direction; normally he bordered right on OCD,
his bedroom was immaculate; no TV, no CDs.

He saw what looked like semen stains about the pillowcase,
and shook his head with haste; he'd rather have a realer date,
but Martin masturbated frequently to feel no hate,
but little did he know this nut would surely seal his fate.

He brushed it off like "F**k it; time to go and do this strip,"
and Martin sat for hours 'cause he wasn't doin' s**t,
his creativity had seemingly just up and left,
it had him at his wit's end 'cause there wasn't nothing left.

He peeped off to the left and saw his drawing; sweet Shavonn,
except her short pink dress and both shoes on her feet was gone,
butt naked like how all of us on Planet Earth are born,
that's when Martin's eyes glazed over and his shirt was gone.

The drawing started shimmering like heatwaves ran across,
the front; white paint gushed out; good thing ol' Mart was standin' off,
'cause all that spew continued blasting white gunk all the way,
back to the closet as Shavonn stepped right up off the page.

Feeling faint and weary forced ol' Mart into the chair,
Shavonn's sleek naked body forced his coughs into the air,
she cooed out "Come and take me Martin; see you might as well,
'cause I'm the last you'll get before eternity in Hell."

"Just what do you mean?" he asked while sitting meat so hard,
Shavonn then shook her head and said "You have a beef with God.
You let your deep depression come and put into your head,
the overwhelming urge to put a bullet in your head.

Now suicide's a mortal sin; for that your soul is cursed,
to spend eternity in fire and you'll know it worse,
than those who die from others' hand; straight heathens and the like,
I took your essence smooth while you were sleeping in the night."

The walls became engulfed in flames as high as Tower Sears,
Shavonn's skin fell away and she was then resound to hear,
the screams that came from Martin's mouth while in her shell of bones,
the heat was scorching Martin to a crisp; now Hell was home.

The Next Day....

Sergeant Mel Devito'd seen alot throughout the years,
his nightmares haunted him; most nights he almost drowned in tears,
and this would sure be one of them to bounce from in the house,
a world renowned cartoonist with a shotgun in his mouth.

It looked to him like suicide and he thought nothing less,
a 12-gauge to the cabbage though? There wasn't nothing left,
to just see if the victim looked like what folks might've knew,
he smiled though at the sexy chick it seemed the guy had drew....

©2015
The Cunning Linguist

Author's Note

This idea came from nowhere in particular, just felt like writing one day.