Illiad Series: The Doc

His wall, a shrine of honor and ego
MIT grad. The doc, highly regarded.
A steeple of Plaques pulsate his office
“A hero of the community. He fought for the people!”
Despite the jazz, his prize possession? jovial portrait of youth
His daughter, Josephine’s
beaming smile….devoid of a tooth
“Love you, daddy”
With the conviction of a crayola composure
sketched on crumpled stationery; folders
His American dream…
Firmly placed on a magniloquent mahogany stained desk.
An Iphone 18 reflecting a life of grandeur
But the devil’s in the detail…
And exit when night falls.

Masks are man-made.
Motives? incidental.
Perhaps a sad place.
Chosen last place as a lad;
Shades of grey enveloping soul…
It takes a doctor’s precision to balance the delicate stroke
Between madness and genius... colors erode…
He adored the acclaim…
but more so the rush of the “stroke’
A “doctor” of two trades: Life and Death.
stainless steel was the tool
As scalpel and slugs juxtapose
Midnight’s morbid milieu

*Riiiinnngggg*
“Hello? Of course. I’ll be there. Goodbye”

It wasn’t a flashy getup,
A simple black ensemble etched in mellow tone.
the night, a hellish yellow drone,
as the moon belch a thick glow
The Doc smiled at the night...as he exit his home…
For tonight, he have a date...…
With a Dragon and Devil.