Judah Mahay, Author
  • Poems,  Works

    Waiting for the End

    And here I stand Open Hand The heavens bleed on my palm I wait The burn I sweat Life verified by this heat My mind seared with opiate memories I pace Embittered, waiting for death Stalling till my last breath Epicurean termination, my fingertips tingle The void nears I halt Place my hat on the wicker chair Do you have a dime to spare One last cup of coffee is all my care Let the ashen sip singe my tongue I spit Because I like to.

  • Featured,  Short Stories,  Works

    Angels In Despair

    Noah whispered to the bundle in his arms as a passing breath of wind raked across his skin. “So you’re the last Hope. I’ll do my part. You’ll get to the hospital, but can you bring what you’re called?” “Hey Noah, what were you saying?” Tom went rigged and his eyes deepened in their sockets. “Wait! Do you feel that?” He shoved away from the willow tree he had been leaning on, strode out of the shadow of its hanging branches, licked the back of his hand, and lifted it to the air. “There’s a nasty breeze.” “Do you think it’s the Black Wind? “It has the bite and I’m…

  • Vignettes,  Works

    drool

    he lay broken because he must being so torn of flesh and mind how could he do else yet ponder the pitfalls of his twisted and muddled mind yet our Zea is struck with the difficulty of his lack his room stuffy and hot with not a small dose of irritating humidity and he screams how the hell am I supposed to get out of here but that does about nothing to calm the unrest they call his heart and somehow there is little else he can do in the confines of his self made sterile entrapment so he screams and screams as the chilly night blankets him in deceptive…