"When the most precious thing in your world religiously haunts you it can make life a living hell…" In the title story of An Uneaten Breakfast, William Scott reveals the essence of his tortured soul through the dark memoir of his past. Death, mystery, and raw emotion eat the characters in these stories from the inside out as they desperately try to recover the lives they once lived. While the poems offer some uplifting moments they push the perceptions of mortality, lost youth and the unalterable passing of time to the forefront of the reader's mind. This diverse collection of poetry and short fiction truly has something to offer every reader.
Selections from An Uneaten Breakfast:
"When he came to the table to eat and said hello to me for the first time, I didn't see his lips move. His grey eyes did all the talking. I'd never seen a boy our age with grey eyes before. They saw my curious concern and with a concern of their own they said, come to me. Watch me watch you and when no one else is watching, I have dangerous things to show you."
“Diego picked up the knife, held it so that the blade ran up his wrist, and threw a punch in the direction of his uncle’s neck. The fist missed, but the jagged teeth of the blade bit the skin of the older man and bright red blood squirted out with a wet leaking sound. Diego laughed as his uncle held both hands to his throat desperately trying to hold the blood in.” – Diego
"If it weren't for the small flicker of hope I squeeze on to, I would end the pain and head there now. It's not that I don't value life; I just place none on my own at the moment. A wise man once said that a life of worth is ill worth living alone. In this I find great truth, but in that truth I find great sadness. If I had known at that moment that I might never see or touch him again, I would have held him close and never let go. The last words I said to him allow me some solace to my pain, but his response to those words brings me to tears upon the very thought."
–An Uneaten Breakfast
2's & 3's
They say that bad things come in 3's and not 2's,
But I'm in too good a mood to sit wording blues.
Thats one already baby, I'm on my way down,
I only think of you when no one else's around.
That's 2 in itself since you're never home,
The 3rd half is found in my being alone.
Grounded so ealily, I guess that its true
Bad things come in 3's in stead of 2's.
They say good on the other comes in 2's and not 3's.
This also has truth, that's not hard to see.
I've been high before and will be soon again,
There's 2 without trying, when wording blues ends.
The math isn't tricky, you always end low
And that's as far up as the numbers will go.
You'll always have lost before you begun,
3's higher than 2 and 2's never won.
The Cat and the Child
“Oh the places you will go,”
The cat said to the child.
“I hope that you will never know
How it feels to be defiled.”
“It’s wild that when you’ve grown old
You’ll look back on younger days in regret,
Imagination is a thing to behold
And life is but roulette.”
“I’ll bet you’ve seen,” the child guessed,
“More than I’ll ever get to see.”
“Remember the good and forget the rest.”
The cat answered quietly.
“To me, a vivid memory
Is but life’s greatest curse.
No strife or struggle, you’ll one day agree,
Could do you any worse.”
The child watched him in confusion.
“The places,” the cat continued more,
“Will leave you sad and disillusioned.”
“I’ve been,” the kid said, “there before.”
“Ah, so you know,” the cat said in sorrow,
“And so it is I’m too late then.”
He talked to another child tomorrow
And the day after that, another again.