Hush Little Baby

I watch you and pretend that you sleep.
I brush the hair from you face as you don’t make a peep.
I smile with a look of pride.
Your skin so soft and you are all mine.
I clinch your hand and interlock fingers.
I whisper “I love you” but I know you don’t hear me.
Your face is getting cold as the fan softly turns.
Let me cover you up…careful not to disturb.
I’ll make you breakfast and we’ll spend the day together
We will fold clothes and clean the kitchen together
We will do all the things that make life fun
You and me…just us two, hun.
I’ll let you sleep for now, I know you need your rest
You need to be strong so you can pretend you care.
It’s ok…I know I need help.
But you seem so patient with that knife in your chest.
I’ve cleaned up the mess and washed your body down
I brushed your hair…you are so clean now.
Just lay there in your quiet place
Your lips are so dry and your face has gone pale.
But it’s ok. I’m here for you. I will never leave you.
You smile more now than you did the past year or two.
I guess change has been the cure for us.
You don’t talk too much now…you allow me to decide for us.
I guess change has been what we really needed.
Maybe you can see me now for what you never conceded.
I’ll take the knife out, I promise…let the sheet silhouette you.
Just don’t scream…I might have to kill you.


Home is where the heart is.

They say that some never change until they see the bottom coming up. It’s like falling from a place of bliss into a dark world that is so foreign to me. The bottom is already here, but I choose not to change. I choose to embrace this new place. This dark world with dark intentions has chased me for so long and I have run long enough. I can’t run any longer. I didn’t fall from grace…I jumped. I closed my eyes and faced the things that have endured my cowardly retreat. I see the very darkness that engulfs my senses and I feel the loneliness and pain that are mine to embrace. The fear of the unknown embraces me like a father would his proud son. This dark soulless world is now a part of me. It’s where I lay my head and it’s where my mind retreats to when your world has forgotten me.

I see the bottom and it’s too high for me to reach. I look up and I don’t see the hands of god. I don’t hear him calling me home. I hear nothing. I see nothing. I close my eyes and breathe. I’m waiting, standing in this dark world. My face weary from the tears I don’t cry. My hands are wrinkled from the water that drowns my soul. My body, stripped naked, is cold and breathless. My feet are torn from the road I never traveled. Embrace me dark world. Give me the joy of redemption. My lifeless soul yearns for acceptance into your loneliness.

My weary feet step from this cold puddle of sweat and grasp the cold asphalt of my new world. Sweat and blood run down my calves and form around my calloused feet. Open wounds burn as the salt from my body slowly flow over them and create pale pink puddles around each foot print. My knees are weak…bloody from wounds of fruitless prayer and delirious meditation. My body shivers from the cold.

My eyes dart back and forth, searching for purpose and security. There is none. The darkness has possessed me with memories of what I’ll never be. Flashbacks from a future that isn’t mine haunt me with faces from a past that is yet to be. Embrace me! Show me the world that everyone has turned their backs on. Show me the world here for me. Inspire me with the darkness of humanity while my body shivers from the chill of your anguish. I have become what I thought I couldn’t…I’ve become me. I’ve become a dark representation of your disappointment and the opposite of your satisfied smile of approval. I am your flesh. I am your hate. I am your pain. I am your fear. I am your abandoned son.

I slowly open my dilated eyes and begin to smile with the satisfaction of knowing that I am my own. Tainted by your revenge and your lust for the impossible…I will conquer this world. I will battle with demons. I will unite with the gods of my mind and I will become what you fear the most. I will embody the emotions that grasp my soul and transform. I softly laugh and embrace the dark world that has embraced me. Finally, this is where I am supposed to be. I am home.


My dearest apology!

I would like to apologize for the way I present myself through blogs, pictures, poems, songs, and even in person. For some of you, I may seem to be an angry, hateful, self-loathing, wannabe martyr who has yet to allow his past to be buried, but insist on burying his future. Although this view is the one that I present, do not judge this book by its horrible cover. Inside this “book” you will find a sensitive, loving individual, who loves life and sees the world in bright beautiful joyful colors and sees a sky full of rainbows and soft fluffy clouds. He’s there….I’m there….all you have to do to find him is….

…walk down the dark corridors that loom with hate
See the blood on the walls from all the pain I create
Hear the sheer scream of the soul that I refuse to embrace
A breath, a breeze, if not just for one little taste
You walk past the pictures that I love to hate
Look in my eyes, wipe the smile off my face!
Follow the smell of the burning skin in the air
You’ll find that poor soul…you better look everywhere!
Can you hear the chains that he drags like the ghost of our past?

Feel the death in the air…my soul will never last!
Cowardly hidden in a room full of mirrors
I see me for what I am…it couldn’t be any clearer.
Those who love to hit need a face to split
Those who love to kill need blood to spill
Those of us who love to be stabbed in the back
Need a back strong enough for the whole world to attack
I’ll be the whipping post for anyone who needs it
But don’t get mad when I ask for 10 minutes
Look at this soul caged by rage
Lost in hate and found enslaved
I could go on for days about the ways I paid
Just to hear you say, “Please, don’t complain today!”
FUCK THAT! I’m taking my time to clear my mind
Imprison this soul with the hate of mine
So look all you want you’ll never find the real me
I’m buried like the future of man I’m suppose to be
I don’t need you….you need me!
I make you look so good…like the angel I used to be
So compare yourself to me…you’ll look like a winner
But hide behind your front…If I ever find you…I’ll kill you!!!!!


I don't need you...you need me!

I don't need space...I need a distraction!!
Kind of trapped in my own head...a product of my own dissatisfaction!!
I used to bend bullets, jump as high as the moon,
Run so fast that I could change the world’s view.
I could be whatever I want, whatever she needs,
A king to some and a provider to three
But when does the world stop to help me out
I gave you everything and yet you fucking spew me out?
My mind has gotten weary from working overtime
To many loose strings and never enough time
Believe me, hear me, this war is not over
I struggle to find ways to keep me from falling over
I used to believe that the world gave a fuck
I could write crazy stuff that my head makes up
Write stories that seem to be fictional based
But so fucking real to me that it resurrects my hate
Disgusted by the thought that I never fought back
While the child molesting fuck was allowed to relapse
I hate myself daily for allowing the pain
To be passed to other kids because I never said a thing
So many lives were changed…for the worse because of me
I hope you know I deal with it by rhythm less melodies
So much pain to feed, hate to breed
So little breath to breathe, so many reasons to hate me
Yet my kids look at me like I’m a fucking hero
Little do they know that I’m just a zero
Worthy of nothing more than to boil in my own my hate
No distraction from my own damn emotional cage
So I’ll write until my fucking fingers bleed
I’ll battle you preachers who say it’s wrong to be me
Because this is what I am…hate, anger, and dissatisfied
Jealous, hurt, belittled, lonely, with no tears left to cry
Save me? Don’t even think you can
When you live what you preach…I’ll listen to your plan
All I want is to be understood and heard
None of you, but one, can even hear my words
Pity me, hate me, try to understand me
As long as you believe I’m wrong I don’t want you near me!!


I am

So many people expect perfection from our imperfect world. Our imperfect people scream for the impossible. They demand the one thing that they can not provide. They choose to overlook moments of greatness by focusing on failures. Humanity, the carnal desires that religion is so quick to scorn, is where we dwell. This place of such evil intension is rebuked by half hearted scholars that make beliefs out of impossible goals. Where does someone go when they have nowhere to go? You want me run into the arms of your god? Where does a person go if they embrace their souls and stand by their own convictions? You want me to run into the doors of your synagogue? I stand by my heart…not yours! You bleed red because your religion says so? What do I bleed? I embrace the very emotions that make me human. I hold fast to the soul that I have, not for the sake of collecting jewels for the crown I’ll never wear, but because I will not forsake my soul. The anger that I have, the tears that I shed, the shame that I feel, the love that I give, the hate that I harbor…this is me!! This is the real me!! I fear no man…and I fear no god. This ugly soul, painted black by circumstance, is real. It is not to be hidden for anyone. I am imperfect and so are you. You judge me like I don’t know your sin. You find me ignorant and yet I know your bible better than you. You paint pictures of eternal torment as if you are not destined for the same dwelling. Point your finger at me…tell me that I’m wrong! Look down your noses and reveal your hate! I am your new charity? I am your project? NO!! I am the very thing you chose to forget…and yet, I am the one with open arms. I am the one that embraces those who fail at your ridiculous test. I love them no matter who they are or where they come from. I judge only those who refuse to see life for what it is…life! There is no battle…there is no war…there is only you and the rest of us. You are a dying, empty, tomb. You are the harlot. You are the sinner. You are the backstabbing minister. You!


My addiction

I revisit my past like a feen on a drug
So addicted to the pain, I can’t get enough
I inject it in my veins and let the high show up
My eyes roll back as my body tenses up
I bite so hard that my lip starts to bleed
Then I release my mind and let it go free

I remember your face as you force me down
You push my head back as my knees hit the ground
You grab my hair to keep my head still
You reach way back and strike for the kill
My eyes are so heavy from tears I don’t cry
This is what you made…you should’ve let me die

I’m so fucking high that my dreams become real
Faces of the past show me the life I can’t feel
10 minutes pass and I begin to float
I’ll stay this high if the rope doesn’t choke
Let the pain rush through, let it chill my skin
Let my eyes grow red, let them dilate again

Can you smell the sweat as it drips off my chin?
I shake from the shock as I come down again
My toes slowly touch and the rope loosens up
My jaw releases my lip and the blood begins to run
I open my eyes to see your not there
Is the past the only thing that will stay with me here?

I revisit my past like a feen on a drug
So addicted to the pain, I can’t get enough
I inject it in my veins and let the high show up
My eyes roll back as my body tenses up
I bite so hard that my lip starts to bleed
Then I release my mind and let it go free


Moments

We all have our moments. Moments of laughter often shelter and mask our feelings of lonely insignificance. We share moments of awkward silence because we can no longer be honest with ourselves or others. As we hide behind glass walls that balance truth with the illusion of power, pride, and questionable integrity; our smiles become signatures to our own lack of self worth. Smiling faces and eyes are no longer able to tell the story of our lives. The way they look at me when they don’t smile is the look I embrace. The look of doubt that they show me tell me more than they know. The way they hide tears of lost love behind their pretty smile lets me know that wounds have never healed. Some things this world has to offer are as constant as night and day. They are as dependable, and quite honestly, they are the one thing we wish would waiver. Heartache, pain, hatred, circumstance, and empty smiles accompanied by deceitful smiling eyes.

We have all become so analytical, viewing each slight as pawns in our constant parlay of irreversible chess. We become close to one another, not for comfort, but to place our daggers carefully. We use vulnerability to lure and minimize wounds while inflicting silent treason. We all have our moments. Maybe the best moments for me were shared with someone else? Maybe the best moments for you were hidden and lost translation? We all have our moments.


Solitude has it's disadvantages.

The smallest thing seems to bring an emotional burn to my nose. My eyes are so weary from holding back the tears that have been hidden for so many years. I see so many smiles on so many faces and I wonder why I can’t smile. I don’t understand why I keep twisting this emotional dagger that resides in my chest. The world wants so much of me and I don’t think I have what it wants. I’ve pushed myself to be the best at whatever it is I try to accomplish…sometimes my best gets overshadowed by my inability to hide my honesty from those who don’t need to hear the truth.

I’m so tired of lying to myself about every precise move that I fail take. What used to be moves that weighed the smallest amount of emotional trauma have now become life and death issues. Every bad decision has been stretched to think that the world is coming to an end. Every good decision has been overshadowed by the thought that this glorious moment will soon end and I am the end result. Life, as well as death, depends on my every decision. The stress of having to make the right decision weighs so much that the stress alone cannot be lifted by a mere man of my frail stature.

I think I have been out matched. My mind has been stretched to its limits and I don’t think I have the emotional fortitude to continue this fight against my reality. I keep searching for the one that understands me, the one that knows where I am, the one who can help me…not by being strong or mentally tough, but by example. I know you have seen where I am. I know you feel that vulnerability and insecurity. I know you choose not to forget, but like me, you chose to embrace it. I don’t know if I can be as strong as you…I need your help! I have thoughts that I’ve never owned before. Thoughts of such grave consequences and I don’t know how to deal with them. They are the voices I embrace…my only guidance. That is, until your voice became clearer…but I think I’m imaging your voice too.


Last word

My mind has become twisted with enlightened reality
Thoughts so provocative and visions of blooming hypocrisy
I have the urge to wake and assume my history
Jagged pills of past mistakes have never gone down so easily
I could fly so high with misguided fury
So tempted to learn about the metallic taste of my misery
Beautiful to some has become so rigid and fake
Beauty to me is flawed honesty mixed with your worst mistake
Create a world worth loving that bends it’s rules for religion
I will find a way to kill your spirit or at least blame me for your decision
Forgiveness comes when blood has been spilled
So I’ll paint the walls with mine and hope your soul is thrilled


A chance is worth the effort

It took what seemed to be forever…but you found me. You looked for me? You looked for me! I don’t know why…but you did. I hope you like what you see. I hope that this is what you were looking for. I know that I need some work. I’ve been through some long weary days, but in the end, I am still the same person you remembered and thought I would be. Well, maybe not the same…I’m not very optimistic and I don’t smile like I used to. I don’t laugh as much either…but there isn’t as much comedy as their used to be. I don’t cry either! Maybe that is a good thing? Maybe I need to? I don’t even look the same! Well, maybe the outer shell looks the same, but inside…I’m not very healthy. My eyes hide pain and pour out resentment. Sarcasm has become my defense and hatred has become my only weapon. I think that if you look hard enough, you’ll find me. I’m still here! Somewhere underneath this horrible frail mask of bitterness…I’m there, waiting to be rescued. Waiting to be understood and nurtured. I might need to be mended and patched up…but with a little bit of care, I can be the person you remember. I want to be him…I want to save him…I need to save him! Can I be saved? Not by gods or beliefs…but saved from myself? Am I still worth it? I can be him!! Just give me a chance!! That’s all I ask…for the chance!!


In the midst of your hour

I can see your vulnerability
I understand your frame of mind
I can feel every tear
And I understand why you hide
You are so frail
You are so misunderstood
You try to hide from truth
And you embraced the pain you could

In the midst of your hour
You can save my soul
You can heal my shattered spirit
You have the power to make me whole
With one touch of your hand
With one breath on your lips
With one word from your heart
You could end this….

Marred together and bound
We share so many scars
We traveled the same path
Although worlds apart
We have the past to get over
We have the future to embrace
We have each others pain
And we have forever to replace


How far will I go?

There’s a strange feeling in my soul…I can’t find the source
So many places to hide, so many unopened doors
I’m lost in my own head.
Echoes of delusion have planted these pictures in my head
I can see you smile, I can hear you laugh
I can smell your skin and yet I hide in my own wrath
Your eyes glisten so bright, so forgetful you seem
I wonder what it’s like so over and over I scream
Pictures turn to voices and they aren’t as clear
I like the visions…it’s the unbridled anger I fear
They tell me I could never find the places they hide
Screaming secrets of the past, savagely raping my mind
All the innocence have fallen to the scars of my past
Cut the ties that bind and hope the bleeding doesn’t last
How far will this go? Please, make it stop
I know my limits, I can’t stay in this spot
“STOP!!” I cover my ears and begin to yell.
I sweat profusely as I engage my own personal hell
Veins begin to swell and my eyes go red
“PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP!!” I’d rather be fucking dead
I know where you are…they will hurt you if I don’t listen
They want me to make your eyes stop glistening.
Please, you have to hear me…
These voices are too loud, and I can’t control the ending!
I just want you to know that this isn’t the real me!
This is the shell of the man…his delusional mastery
I feel this demon taking over my senses
“FUCKING RUN….I CAN’T CONTROL THE FUCKING ENDING!!”

SO NOW YOU WANT TO LISTEN?
I GAVE YOU EVERY CHANCE…CAN YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?
I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE…HIDE IF YOU WANT!
CAN YOU HEAR THE VOICES IN MY HEAD, IF YOU DIE…THEY STOP!
I DIDN’T WANT THIS…YOU DIDN’T HEED MY WARNING
I HAVE TO MAKE THEM STOP…THEY ARE CONTINUOUSLY SWARMING
I CAN HEAR YOU BREATHING…I SMELL YOUR SKIN IN THE AIR
THE BLOOD OF THE ACCUSED IS WHAT CARRIES ME THERE
SMILE AND KNOW THAT I DO THIS FOR ME….FOR ME!!!!!!!!
THE LAST SELFLESS ACT…PERFORMED SO SELFISHLY!!!!!!!


King of Kings, Lord of Lords?

What has God done for you lately?
You pray everyday and you still think the world hates you?
I’m almost sure that the world don’t care
Pray out loud…see if anyone hears.
Do me the favor and keep your beliefs to yourself
I’ve read your bible…I’ve even read theirs
All I see is philosophy not worth keeping
“Turn the other cheek....” yeah, then spread’m for the reaping
You might put on the front that you are so holy
What secrets do you hide? You wear a pedophile’s clothing?
Maybe porn has you wrapped around it’s finger
You’ll still preach that porn is wrong and I’m in danger?
While at home you may find the wrong in your child
But you’ll forgive everyone for worse then black your kid’s eye
“It’s wrong to be gay…you’ll go to hell for it!”
On the same page it says ”raw meat is wrong”…don’t explore it!
But pick and choose…you’ll eat rare steak all day
But you’ll crucify a man…for being happy to be gay?
Let me ask you again…this time, be honest
What the fuck has God done to make you so honored…
To serve, to die, maybe even kill?
The creator of the heavens…did he give you your pills?
Did he give you your car…or did you work your ass off?
Did he house your kids…pay your bills, maybe turn your lights on?
Give yourself the credit you think he deserves
The last time I saw god…I had to pay to serve!


Possessed

I find it difficult to describe the feelings that seem to overwhelm me. It’s hard to put into words. I could use excited, but then again ‘stoked’ seems to be a better choice. I’d use angry if it could encompass the full capacity of hatred and loathing. I’d use scared if there was a single word that would mean ‘so fucking scared that I cried and still looked like a fucking hero’. I wish there was a word for happy that could grasp the meaning of ‘so overjoyed that you turned around slapped someone and then they cried tears of joy while emptying their life savings into your offshore bank account’, but I haven’t found it. I haven’t found those profound words that fully educate you on what I’m feeling. I’ve found metaphors that help…but nothing that really just blatantly allows you into my realm of emotions so that you fully understand my feelings. With that in mind…I figured I would write something that could give you an idea of what I go through to let you in to my world.

I wake up to see that the clock hasn’t turned
It’s 4 in the morning and I’m so pissed at the world
I want to scream so loud that the neighbors wake up
Like my girlfriend would if my wife felt her up
I look at my empty wall and it really pisses me off
I want to put my fist through it while holding my clock
I want to turn the lights on and piss everyone off
I want to yell in your face until it peels your Oxy Clean off
I want to kick down my door until it blast off the hinges
I want to pick the door up and toss it out the window
I want to turn my radio on and breath in Manson
Let out the scream of demons and hope you pay the ransom
I want to run outside in the streets and rip this shirt off
Flex like a monster, let these veins pop off
I want to kick in the window of my neighbors civic
Grab my R6, let the tires scream as it reeks havoc
Call the cops you fucking pussy’s, I am the fucking law
I turned in the work, they gave me a badge to show off
I want to slap the first bitch that raises her fucking voice
Watch your man shrink as I father his boy
I’ll take all you got and I’ll ask for more
I’ll treat him like the bitch and I’ll treat his wife like a whore
Gather around and see what a spectacle I’ve become
Do you feel the raw emotion or are you just that fucking dumb
Shoot me please…it’s the only way to escape
2 to the chest and 1 to the fucking face
I can’t control this rage that flows through my veins
My heart pounds so fast…my chest is in pain
Watch me and see what you have to become
My eyes roll back as my skin goes numb
My fists clinch so hard that my nails pierce my palm
My head kicks back as I start to swallow my tongue
I drop to my knees as you watch in amazement
I pull a gun out and I paint the fucking pavement


Apologetic

If all you got is your history, what will we know about you?
Ask yourself the same question and see what I do
I’ll let you deep into my mind and see if you come out
It’s a deep dark hole with no exit insight
You see my earliest memories still make me faint
I was told my dad died from suicide…after he sniffed paint
I can’t remember, I also heard he was killed by a train
Robert Walton showed up and he took over the reign
Oh the pain he caused, I could go on for hours
Did you know he likes little boys to help him in the shower?
I bet you didn’t know that he stabbed my brother’s foot
With the handle of a brush while my brother brushed his teeth
He used to trip out on drugs and then beat us black and blue
I was only 3 when broke my leg in two
They say most boys grow to resemble their past
Do I hide these tendencies behind the eyes of my mask?

I was an introvert as a youngin’ scared to show my feelings
I was told “don’t cry” but I couldn’t hold the meaning
As we moved from town to town…no one understood
Why I cried so fucking much and why I was so good
I never did anything bad…but I was beat none the less
You think I would learn that the bad kids get the best
But I stayed true to myself all the way through my youth
When it came to girls I never did what I wanted to do
I treated them like queens from the very beginning
Becoming what most consider the perfect gentleman
I think the one thing that I really fucked up
I put too much pressure on these girls to help fix me up
I want to apologize to you all right now
I’m sorry Michelle, Misty, Ashlea, Sean,
Mendi, Anna, Jennifer, Lindsay
Natalie, Melissa, Jamie, Justine and Christina
I should’ve never put the hope in you that I did
I treated you all wrong even if we were just friends

Now I’m all grown up!
30 years old and still fucked up!
I sometimes search for my youth’s innocence
I feel the world owes me from all the shit I missed
I search for someone to understand my stance
I’ve found some…but when it comes down they can’t
Anne has become one of my only pillars
Steadfast through the shit and she never left me among the killers
Many have tried and almost all of them have failed
I don’t want your sympathy I want your help to impale
I want you to feel the pain that I feel
I want you to know the hell that I’ve been dealt
Not so you judge me, but so you understand me
I don’t see the positive, I embrace the negative
Do you really know what it’s like to be cheated?
No childhood, no love, no life, just these feelings…
I hide behind my eyes and smile
Can you really help…you don’t give a shit at this time
I’m sure you feel I deserve what I get
My story makes yours seem so blessed


Liar, Liar...

Who am I? Who…am…I? Hmmm, I’d have to say that I am first and foremost a dreamer. I believe in romantic comedy, although I am living a depressing melodramatic silent film. I believe in love…just not for me. I believe in heroes, I just haven’t met one. I believe in green pastures and beautiful forest surrounding a comforting brook covered by cobblestone bridges…but I’m too afraid to leave my house to see if they are really there. So…what do I do? Who am I?

I am Patrick J. Freeman. I am the son of Walter and Alisa Freeman. Although I’ve never met my parents, I know that they are proud of me. I wear my Irish roots like a badge of honor. I listen to bagpipe music and I drink…a lot. I find comfort in the smell of Irish whiskey and I live my life by the code of my ancestors. I am an easy man to talk to. I don’t pass judgment on first acquaintance and I definitely don’t kiss on the first date.

Actually, my name isn’t Patrick J. Freeman. I am not a drinker or a fan of Irish whiskey…to be quite “honest”, the smell of alcohol makes me vomit. I am not Irish. I do like bagpipe music…okay that’s not true….I hate bagpipes. I have no code to live by and I’ll spread my disease willingly on a first date! Why? Because I hate you. I hate everything about you. I hate that you drive a better car than me. I hate that you have a smile on your face every time I see you. I hate that you don’t have a worry or the fact that you hide it well. I hate that your wife is amazingly beautiful…and you treat her like shit. I hate that your yard is covered with bright green grass and you don’t even water it…yet my lawn is dying and covered in dog shit…and I don’t have a dog!

Okay, Okay…I don’t hate you. I envy you. I envy every single thing about you. I love how your car is always clean. I think it’s so cool that you always pick up the paper at the end of my driveway and you put it on my porch. Who does that? You…that’s who! You are the perfect neighbor and friend. By the way, your wife is hot!! I love that she walks around barefooted and waves at me every time I mow my yard. She’s so sweet and you guys are amazing together. Thanks for being so great!

I’m sorry…none of this is true! I will be honest with you now. I live alone in an old country house located just south of Lake Summers, Iowa. I don’t have neighbors. My parents died when I was a kid and I don’t know any of my family. I’m old…too old to catch the eye of some of the local women, so I think about them instead. I spend a lot of time looking out the window by the front door. I think about the green pastures I don’t want to see and the lovely brook nestled under an adorable cobblestone bridge that I don’t even know exist. I’m a dreamer! But I don’t dream of butterflies and romantic comedies…I dream that one day I will be forgotten. I, along with this old decrepit house with one window, will be gone and there will be no one to tell my story. That’s what I want. I think we all want to be forgotten…that’s why we do nothing to be remembered for. Just let me look out this window…and let me pass. I’m the old man who lives alone in the old house just south of Lake Summers, Iowa. If there is even a Lake Summers, Iowa.


Spinning Rooms

The crowded room began spinning as my insignificance surfaced the fear I have of being alone. From the earliest age of the sexual maturation process, I have found myself attached to girls that I have no business being with. My very existence has been self-described as a pitiful detachment phobia with my own self worth being reliant on public, as well as, female opinion. From the age of 12 I have literally been in love! Not with just one person…but in love with the feeling of being loved, the feeling of being wanted and desired. Now I’m here, dizzy from the emotional solitude and fear of being alone. So, the room keeps spinning.

Today, her eyes were green. They had slivers of brown and gray, but with the sun shining through the windows and her lightly colored clothes, her eyes were green. Her neck and chest shined with a soft glare from the sweat of the hot day as she started to make her way through the crowded room. She walked toward me. She struggled to find me. I tried to yell for her, but there is no way that my voice could carry over the room’s busy atmosphere. The room keeps spinning. Feeling overwhelmed, I slip to my knees as the room keeps spinning.

I quickly put my hands on the floor as my breath began to quicken and my eyes started to water from the lack of air. The people don’t notice me…they keep walking and talking. As my hands start to bleed from the people stepping on them…they never stop walking…they never see me. Yet, I can still smell her skin. I can hear her breathe and I know that she’s looking for me. She frantically begins to work her way through the crowd…she’s searching and surveying the room…for me. If she finds me…she will save me. The room keeps spinning

I scream her name in agony “******!” as blood started to drip from my nose. “Where are you?!?!” With one bloody hand, I clinch my cramping stomach in hopes that I could ease the pain. It’s no use…I can’t save myself. I need you to find me. I need you to save me. Save me.


The Masochist

I know that you wish I would close my eyes and forget
But that’s not the way I work, I’m a mental masochist
I love to remember the wrong I’ve been dealt
It makes me feel and embrace the emotional hell…
You put me through, yes you, the one looking away
You can hide all you want, hope it all blows away
You can forget and move on…that’s the way you work
I’m too busy putting stripes on my back with your words
I can feel the pain with every lash that I give
I don’t want to forget, that would be the sin…
That would bury me, blindsided by my reality
You don’t love me, you only like my security
Does it hurt you to know that “I don’t give a fuck!”?
You had your chance to walk and now you’re virtually stuck!
Feel the pain, embrace the eyes of the hater
I could end it all, I could challenge the creater
I’m one dream away from my perfect illusion
Too bad I talk in my sleep and release the names of your intruders
I wonder how it is that you stay one step ahead
Don’t you know I love the pain, I let you stay ahead
I know that you wish I would close my eyes and forget
But that’s not the way I work, I’m a mental masochist


I am going to die.

“Take all the time you need.” He said, as he sat there looking at me over his wire framed reading glasses. With his legs crossed I could see his ridiculous plaid socks. The way he bounced his alligator covered foot up and down like I wasn’t paying him for his time, irritated me to the point that I couldn’t concentrate. All I could see was his snide eye brow twitch and a half-sarcastic grin as I began to tell him what all the voices in my head were saying.

“I don’t know…there is so much to say.” I watched as he shifted his weight and uncross his arms to adjust himself to a more comfortable position. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out as he pushed the button on his pen and prepared to write on his notepad. “I am going to die…right now! There is nothing I can do about it.” I leaned close to him to ensure he wrote every word. “Can you read it back to me?” I asked him.

“Why are you going to die?”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, “Doc…just read it back to me, please.” I said calmly. “Just…read.”

“Okay?” He said as he lowered his eyebrows and squinted his beady eyes as if he was trying to read into my request with his over paid cereal box psychology.

Leaning in close to him, I whispered quite intensely, “Read…the fucking…words…back to me!”

Leaning close to me, he whispered, “You…don’t…scare me!” He then grinned at me and leaned back into his chair as he calmly and slowly read what he wrote down. “I am going to die…right now! There is nothing I can do about it.” The sarcastic grin began to form as he closed his eyes and reached to take off his wire frame reading glasses. As he did so, I quickly lunged forward and with one hand, grabbed him by his expensive neck tie and grabbed his cheap pen with the other hand. Before he had time to blink, I shoved the pen into his eye. Quickly removing it, I then shoved it into his wind pipe as I quickly wrapped his tie several times around his bleeding neck. Pulling the tie tighter and tighter, the veins in my hands and forearm began to fill with blood as my arms and forehead began to sweat.

“You see, Doc…I am a simple man.” I whispered in his ear. “While you patronize my intellectual ability, I read you like a fucking book. I see the way you squirm when you tell me to take all the time I need.” My hands begin to hurt as I squeeze tighter. “Your mouth pours out comfort while your face breathes contempt. It’s not words that you want from me…it’s the part of me that I can’t hold back that keeps you here! You know what? Fuck you!” As his limp body falls to the floor, my hurting hands release his neck tie. I look into his eye as I gently place his wire frame glasses on his face. I then smile at him as I fix his hair so that it doesn’t cover his forehead. As sweat slowly drips off my nose I stand up and begin to walk away feeling satisfied.


“Son? Son! What do you mean ‘I am going to die’?” I slowly start to come to my senses as I look around the doctor’s office. The doctor still sitting there with that smirk on his face, clicks that stupid pin while I begin to tell him what I meant by the words I asked him to write. “Well…What do you mean ‘I am going to die’?”

“Not me, Doc! I’m not about to die! You are!”


You have 1 new message

She laid there in her bed, happy that her ungrateful husband didn’t wake her as he slipped out of the house on his way to work. She finds happiness in her solitude, a sort of escape from her reality….a reality that holds her hostage as she grows older and more used to the pain of looking at her hated other half. She hasn’t always been this way. She used to love life and all the amenities that came with her beloved husband. They have been together since high school. She wore his letter jacket through the halls of their small school and she sported his senior ring on her index finger. The ring, a bit too big, was fitted around the bottom with blue ribbon to match the color of the stone and school colors. She would stare at the ring in class with a smile of complete bliss. She loved her boyfriend, the high school hero…and the most popular boy in the entire school. Her girlfriends watched her sport the boyfriend’s attire with a sort of jealous but happy gleam in their eye. It was the small things he did that made her love him. He once rang the doorbell of her house and left her a box of chocolates and roses at the foot of the door. As she stepped out and saw the gesture of his love she looked down her long driveway to find him ducking behind the bushes. He loved to see her smile and she loved to catch him watching her.

What has happened to them? Twelve years have passed by and both of them feel their hearts separating from the other. She looks at him with shards of hate and disgust and he looks at her with disappointment and mistrust. Both of them know that it would be better for them to separate and go their own way, but both have come to the agreement that it would be better for the kids to stay and try to find that love that has been lost in the ever turning page of life.

She laid there in that lonely bed every morning, but today has brought something new…an unexpected change. Her phone beeped and vibrated on the nightstand. *1 new message* it read on the display screen. “One new message?” She asked herself. “Who would message me at this time?” She quickly puts in her lock code and reads a strange message from a strange number, “Question: What is your favorite color?” Curious about the text, she doesn’t even ask who the text is from. She just quickly replies “Green”.

“Green? Wow, that’s the color of geniuses!” The person quickly replied. “My favorite color is also green! What is your favorite book?”

“This may be dumb, but I love romantic novels…don’t laugh!” She replies.

“I’m not going to laugh…they are very good reading! Very graphic!”

She grins and sends another message, “I like reading about things that I don’t get at home! LOL!!”

“Things are not so good on the home front? Do you want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

“Not right now…maybe later!”

“Are you accustomed to talking to strangers?” The person asked.

“No…but for some reason, I’m willing to talk to you! But only through text! Do you know me?” She replied.

“No, I don’t know you…I just randomly dialed a number in hopes that I could find a friend that wouldn’t judge me. I have too many friends that do that way too much!! I need a break!!”

“I could be that friend! Tell me about yourself!” She sent with a nervous stomach.

Every message she received seemed to be a story out of the pages of her own diary! The emotions this person felt and the view they had on different subjects were almost identical those that she harbored. How could someone randomly send a message to another person and find that the person is so similar? They continued to send messages until she had to break it up so that she could go to work. The entire morning filled with an excitement that she hasn’t felt in a long time!! She didn’t feel alone and misunderstood! She felt that there was at least one other person that knew her and understood every emotion that she had. She found out that they were also in a dysfunctional marriage. They too have been married for 12 years and they too couldn’t wait for their spouse to leave the house in the mornings. This person also married their high school sweetheart and they also felt that staying together was better for the kids. How ironic for this person to message her at this moment? She couldn’t believe that she had opened up her life to a complete stranger. Telling truths about herself that not even her own husband knows. “How therapeutic!” she thought to herself. “Maybe tomorrow, I’ll find out who this person is…I hope it’s a guy!”


Russian Roulette

Welcome to the game that everyone seems to wanna play
The wages are steep and the reward is big but the price is too much to pay
Take a deep breath and close your eyes put one bullet in the gun
Spin it hard and point it at the head of the one you love
Sooner or later it’s you or them, you gotta be willing to pay the price
One chance now for you to live while you take your lover’s life

The only true pain is the feel the blood of the one that you love
Cover your hands as you try to stop it from painting the floor
It’s the chill of the thought you were strong enough to defy her petty scream
It’s blood on your face as from the suicide you helped to finally bring
Sooner or later it’s you or them, you gotta be willing to pay the price
One chance now for you to live while you take your lover’s life

She lays so still with her eyes still fixed on your smiling face
A peace in her eyes hypnotize as your heart begins to race
You take a step back and you realize that it’s easier than you thought
You go back to the end of the line willing to pay for another loss
Sooner or later it’s you or them, you gotta be willing to pay the price
One chance now for you to live while you take your lover’s life


What am I really saying??

So inconspicuous are the thoughts that enter this
Mind of M with the weight of syphilis
To the whores of all four corners of world
I need to empty my thoughts while closing the doors
Of my soul, or the windows to some,
Eyes to me, but daggers to those I love
It so hard to hide the confusion I carry
A job for ten years has become a burden worth forgetting
I’m ready and anxious for the next distraction to show
Ready to blow like a teen at his first topless show
I thrive on things not going as planned
I say I want peace, but it’s about the conflict man!
If it’s an argument you want, just name the topic
I’m the devil’s advocate and I’m so ready to drop it
A heretic in the mind of most
With nothing on the record is worth a moments boast
I find ways to draw from the source of my hate
Creative thoughts that make me stay up late
I’ve got all these stories running through my head
For some reason I always end up dead
Red from the blood that drips from the hole
In my head as my eyes begin to roll
I find peace in the thought that it ends so quick
Thirst for the end but the fight is where it’s at


Realistically speaking?

When is it okay to be completely real? To share your faults, scars, battles, emotions, and desires with people has become so sort of vial ridiculous mirror that almost everyone is ashamed to look in. I bleed red just like the rest of you. It seems that the people you bleed for, the people you risk your life for, the people you gave up your dreams for so that they can fulfill theirs have become callous to the thought of giving something in return. In my creative high, I have written story after story and song after song…strictly for the entertainment of the reader and my own personal theorpy. I’ve put my soul into every word and I’ve personally put my diary open so that you can read and understand…not that you would pity me or throw sympathetic jargon my way so that you feel like a better person. I put thought into every word, knowing that I’m not the only one in the middle of the ocean! I write so that you can find comfort in knowing that you are not alone. Your sick thoughts that your parents share (but deny in the face of public opinion) are being written so that you find comfort in knowing that you are not the only person to feel hate. You are not the only person who has dreamed of hurting someone. You are not the only one who has had thoughts about someone else who you can’t have. You are not the only one who is human!!! I don’t care if you are a minister, father, mother, sister, brother….the same thoughts (be it sick and demented or beautiful and creative) are shared among us all. Those of you who lie and say that you don’t feel the emotions by which my songs have or you don’t understand the words I write are absolutely worthless when it comes to integrity. I don’t want friends that isolate me and make me feel like I’m the outcast! 10 out of 10 people have the same thoughts as I do…call it taboo if you want, but if you can’t face your own reality then I feel sorry for you. Because you are not a real person…you are a liar.


Ruse

I take a deep breath and try to wrap my mind around all the things that just happened. I try hard to convince myself that it was my only option; there was no other way for things to go down. My eyes dart back and forth as I grip my hair with blood covered hands. My face is covered in blood as pink sweat slowly runs down my nose and drips off of the tip creating stains on the chest of my shirt. Still gripping my hair, my eyes begin to water as I back up against the wall. I slowly slide down the wall until my knees catch the floor.

“I had no choice…I had no choice…I had NO FUCKING CHOICE!! Look what you made me do!! Who isn’t man enough? I’m man enough…You BITCH!!” I start to look around the disgusting gas station restroom, looking for a way to clean myself up enough to not look guilty. I frantically drop the bloody pistol in the sink and begin to wash my hands and face. The brown water coming out of the facet mixes with the blood and sweat as the sink slowly begins to fill.

“Nice….why didn’t you just shoot them? Instead you repeatedly drive the butt of the pistol into their skull? I taught you better than that.”

“Shut up!!! Stop talking to me!!! Haven’t you done enough?” I look into the broken mirror to find that my reflection isn’t there. I quickly turn around to see myself peacefully sitting on the back of the toilet with my feet propped up on the seat. “Get away from me!!!” I yelled. “Haven’t you done enough?”

Lighting a cigarette, this version of me steps off the toilet and calmly walks toward me. His clothes, clean and sharp, resemble the man I want to be. With the smoke softly running up his face, he looks at me with his soulless eyes. The whites of his eyes are as black as the darkest night. Slowly stepping towards me, he gently says “All you had to do was control yourself. Harness your anger, control your breathing, and pull the fucking trigger. Why did I even think you could do such a simple task?” He slowly pulls on his cigarette while the amber ash softly lights his face.

“You weren’t supposed to be here! How did you…?” I frantically ask.

“You. You let me out. You called me and I came to help you. Just in time, if I do say so myself.”

“What do I do?” My breathing has started to pick up as the realization of my actions become more apparent. “What do I DO?”

“Calm yourself.” He says with a steady deep voice. “Slow your breathing.” As he slowly lifts his hand and points at his temple, I close my teary eyes as I feel the steel of the pistol against the side of my face. Fighting the hypnotic urge to follow him, I hold my breath. Sweat and tears run down my face as my eyes begin to clinch tighter and tighter.

With a broken stutter, I shout “D-D-Don’t d-d-do this to me!!!”

With his face an inch away from mine he softly whispers, “I’m not doing anything. You are the one with the pistol.” The smell of cigarettes fill my nose as his warm breath touches my lips. My mind begins to flash images of all the things I hold dear. The pictures are filled with smiles and laughter. Images of my kids begin to calm my nerves, harnessing them to the point that I can feel the power and calm begin to fill me. I instinctively begin to control my breathing as I slowly pull the gun away from my head and begin to point it at this other version of me. I open my eyes, which are as black as the night, and see my bloody reflection in the mirror. Pointing the gun at the cracked mirror, I smile…knowing that I am now in control. A half grin of confidence begins to show as I see the fear on my reflection. Standing there covered in sweat diluted blood, I begin to squeeze the trigger. With one loud pop from the pistol, my body drops to the dirty floor.

“What do you think happened here?” Officer Rodriguez asked his new training officer as she gently stepped over the lifeless body.

“Suicide?”

“Suicide? What gives you that idea?”

“Well…for one, he’s head is scattered on the wall and he’s holding a handgun covered in blood.”

“Maybe…but this gun was never fired. Careful...that cigarette butt could be our only lead.”


Some dreams are worth having

She sat there inches away from my face. I could smell her hair and see the glitter from her makeup as she conversed with those around the Christmas dinner. It was amazing to see the comfort level she displayed to my friends and family. The crowded table displayed baked ham and turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, vegetables of all sort, and chips and dip. There was hardly any room to move or sit because of the crowded tables that filled the screened in porch, but we managed to be a family…at least for this one day. Looking at her there gave me a sense of joy! She had been gone so long and I thought I would never see or hear from her again. But like the prodigal son, she returned…or maybe it was I who returned?

Voices and laughter filled the air as jokes were exchanged and embarrassing stories were shared among those who sat at the tables. Her hand would grab the same chip as mine and I would quickly pull my hand away as her soft skin gently touched me. She would take that same chip and dip it into this amazing cheese dip and demand that she feed it to me. It was like I was in some sort of time warp! How could things not be different after all the time that she had been away? She didn't seem to mind that our knees would touch or that our feet would almost uncontrollably meet. She would put her hand on my arm and leave it there while she told stories of us as kids. "This is unreal" I kept saying to myself.

Her husband came to the table and sat across from us. I asked him if he wanted to sit by her and he said that it's been such a long time away from me and the family that he didn't want to separate us. "Is this really happening?" I kept asking myself. He was nothing like what I thought he would be…but yet, he was exactly what I thought he could be. He dressed himself in a cream colored sweater and his short cropped blonde hair was just like the pictures I've seen. I looked at him with a new trust and shook his hand as I welcomed him to the family. His grip was firm…well, much more firm than I thought it would be. I was highly impressed by his presence. Some people seem to have an essence about them and his was one of peace and trust. He made everyone fill so comfortable.

My wife leaned across the table to ask her and her husband if they wanted more bread. They both agreed so I passed them the basket of fresh baked rolls. After swallowing most of the food that was in her mouth, she continued telling the story of how we met and how the two of us used to get into so much trouble as kids. Her husband's eyes glowed as you could see the pride he had in his beautiful wife. She was amazing! She was the greatest friend that I've ever had and there was nothing that I wouldn't do for her.

The moment of bliss was interrupted by my mother's untimely desire to sing carols. Every Christmas we would sit around the fireplace and sing carols with each other so why would this be any different? It was odd to me that she wanted to sing in the middle of dinner, but that's what dreams are all about right? Oh, I didn't tell you? This story is a dream that I had on the night of January 3, 2009. It was the first dream of the year for me (unless you count the dream of me playing "Rock Band 2"…but I don't remember that one. I've only been told stories of how great I am at the air guitar)! It's amazing how dreams can show you how beautiful and fun life can be! Although, I don't see this dream coming true, I did wake up smiling…and I haven't done that in a while!


Her ride home...

Sitting there alone on that train made her wonder about coming back. She had been gone for so long. She didn't recognize anyone sitting beside her and this town didn't have many strangers. What was she thinking? Maybe she could get her old job at the kennel or maybe she could get a job working at the café. Who knows, maybe she could do both! She didn't have anything but time and being without him made it even harder to sit and enjoy the silence. She looked around at the people sitting around her. Each one has a story to tell to anyone who would listen, but these days, finding someone that would listen was harder than to tell the story. Each face sat there waiting to let go of the words they've kept silent for so long. Some were covered with beards, others were smooth and young. She wondered if anyone wanted to hear her story. She wondered if anyone looked at her face.

Her skin was soft and her face was flawless. She had long thin eyebrows that traced her intense but shy Spanish brown eyes. Her hair was lightened by the sun but you could still see the dark roots as she began to put her hair up. She sat there with her legs crossed and arms folded together looking around at each person. As they return the look, she would smile and look away. Her ears held these little diamond earrings that were given to her by her mother. Small in stature, she would always sit up straight with her back against the seat. Her legs were shiny and yet you could tell they were soft. Her knees were covered by her skirt and her soft feet were covered by the two straps of her high heels. One small strap gracefully hid the portion of her feet where her toes met her foot and the other went around the top of her ankle. She didn't polish her toe nails because she didn't have a color that wouldn't clash with her Brown skirt and wool suit coat, but it didn't matter…her smooth skin and beautiful toes where just a portion of what made this woman so unbelievably beautiful to everyone.


Shades of Gray

I've been in this taxi all day. The sky covered in the gray
of overcast and the light rain begins beads on the window as we drive through the city. Guided by the scattered thought of an empty future, I politely told the driver to let me out at the train station. After handing him a fist full of wadded money, my glove covered hands grip the dingy door handle as I pushed the door open with my elbow. The driver, who looked to be too old to handle luggage, looked at me and asked if he could help. I quickly smiled at him and encouraged him to find a warm lunch and not to worry about my luggage. He smiled back at me revealing his yellow tobacco stained teeth and merciful eyes. "You do know that the train is done for the day?" he said to me in his raspy low voice. I nodded, smiled, and walked toward the station. The air was full of sounds from the city. The squeal of brakes and the horns from impatient drivers join the sound of doves perched along the side of the station.

I grabbed my military issue duffle bag and throw the straps over my shoulder. The cold drizzle of rain has now turned into quite a down pour. Walking to a small café across the street, my thick wool beanie has started to soak in the rain but still shielded my eyes from the thick rain. The door to the café opened and the empty room echoed the sound of bells tied to the door handle. The door creaked as it slowly shut behind me. My wet boots left a trail of water and footprints as I slowly walked across the floor toward the center of the room. As I took the beanie off my head, it slowly leaked out the rain creating a small puddle on the hardwood floor of the café. "Hello?" I said loudly, as I stood there covered in wet clothes. With no answer, I slowly walked around the room looking at the old paintings on the wall.

"That was given to me by my grandmother." A shaky voice said from a small office in the corner of the room. "It has been in that exact spot for as long as I can remember." She smiled from the thought and politely offered me a seat at the table below the painting. Her proper attitude and perfectly spoken English put an ease in the dimly lit café. "Why have you come here? You have been warned to stay away…but yet you choose not to be forgotten?" She smiled at me as she lifted her small cup of tea with her skinny vein covered hand. Her silver hair was perfectly placed in a bun on the back of her head, but her voice and eyes displayed a great amount of displeasure. "She isn't here," she said. "She has chosen to forget the unforgettable…maybe it would be wise for you to do the same." She again softly smiled as she lifted her tea cup to her lips.

"I leave tomorrow" I told her.

"And yet…you find time to wonder the rainy streets of the city? Who are you hoping to find? Are you searching for the love that's forsaken you and your friendship for the arms of security and a name worth living for? Leave her, I beg of you. Let her find the happiness you seek. Let her forget." She lifts her cup to her lips and looks at him.

"You aren't quite as charitable with advice as I thought you would be."

"Charity has no place in a conversation full of inevitable heartbreak."

"I think I'll have a coffee to go" I told her as she gracefully got up from the table and walked toward the kitchen. "One thing that I admire about you is your honesty. I'm willing to bet that it's the sophisticated doubt and snide comments that win people over the first time they meet you. I see that not much has changed in this town."
She stopped walking and politely turned around to face me. "You have also failed to change. Your belief in fairytales and happily-ever-after have clouded your mind when looking at reality. The reality is, if you must know, is that she no longer lives here and your idea of chasing ghost has worn you and your wallet thin. Why don't you give up? Know that what you had was special, but it's over. Be happy for her and find peace in the fact that you didn't take her away from her destiny. With that, I'll retrieve your coffee, sir." She gracefully turned away again and headed to the kitchen.

As I waited for my coffee, the husband of the woman came to fetch my coat and luggage. "Your coat, sir" he said. He was dressed in a brown suit and his wrinkled face smiled as if to say everything was okay.

"No thank you. I won't be staying long."

"It's not her you seek, is it? It's the reason that has you wondering. Son, there are no reasons. Cling to hope. If it is love you seek then it might be where you least expect it. Stop looking so hard and enjoy the rain." He slowly walked away, leaving me there covered in my wet coat.

The old lady quietly returned to the table. She carried with her a tray holding two small coffee cups and a fresh pot of coffee. "You'll have to excuse my husband. He has become quite nostalgic in his old age. It seems that he has taken a liking to you. He says that your blind hope and tenacity remind him of himself when he was younger. It is adorable to watch him remember. I see you still have your coat…are you not staying long?"

"No. I have a long night before my train leaves in the morning."

"In the morning?" she quickly asked. "Why not catch a taxi to the station across town. There is a train that leaves tonight and you could easily make it. With the weather the way it is, it would be easy to lose track of time as well as the possibility of losing power in these old buildings."

"Thank you for your concern, but I think I'll take my chances. Besides, I have a lot of walking to do." She quickly walked away and headed back toward the kitchen. The old man slowly poked his head from inside the corner office. His awkward smile and hopeful eyes somehow tell me that I've made the right decision. Sipping the last bit of coffee, I gathered my soaked luggage and quietly walked toward the door. The bells once again filled the quiet room as the rain began to soak my jacket and hat.
As I stood there collecting rain, I turned to look back at the café. The little old man and his wife watched from the window as I smiled and walked away.

"He's just like you, you know? He still has your dream filled eyes and your strong will. I just hope he finds me when I get off the train tomorrow."

"You don't have to worry. If I know me, then I'll be waiting for you when you step off. You see, Darling, that's what fairytales are made of."

As I walked away, they watched me. They hugged in a happy embrace. Maybe they understood….maybe not. All I can say is that I better not miss my train


I keep counting.

Count slowly. One…two...three…make each breath a calming breath that sooths the very life out of all emotion. Four…five…six…as each raw bit of anger is out thought by the smooth calm counting…seven…eight…nine…ten. Now that is much better. I'm so glad I didn't allow myself the joy of being human. For a second there I thought that the side of me that holds memories locked away was about to get the best of me. I feel so much better now. I feel so…..lifeless. It's a shame that everyone else doesn't have the ability to be civil and responsible. While you all yell in anger at unruly children and cry at the thought of being unloved, I count. One number at a time…I unleash the calm over me as if hardened by time and experience that comes only in living for thousands of years. You are easily angered by betrayal and your pale face cannot hide the fear you have over never being loved. How do you cope with such emotion? How is it that you are allowed to curse the very face you kiss and yet you are considered sinless? Mere mortals have harnessed the power of god in ways that I can only imagine. You cry when you are hurt. You yell when you are angered. You laugh when you are amused. How is it that I am the one who is not allowed to be angry? How is it that I'm unable to cry or curse the face I kiss? One…two…three…four…I count. Each breath a calming breath that sooths the very life out of all emotion. Five…six…seven….I am still counting. Eight…nine…ten.


Final thoughts!

Dear God, I know you don't remember me
I'm the one that said I'd serve you continuously
I'd do anything that you wanted me to,
But it seems things change…I got better things to do
But I'm on my knees now because things are fucked
Up is down and left is up
I'm so confused by the signs you've been sending me
Maybe it's not you…Maybe I'm seeing the worst of me
Who knows if these thoughts are even real
Anger and rage with the a thirst to kill
I hope you don't allow me to get the best of me
Impressionable souls find a way to follow me
I don't want to be the one to lead them astray
But I don't mind being the fucking blame today
The way I figure it, you ain't even listening
You abandon people all the time…just look at your history!
Why is it that you never look for me?
I needed you too and you weren't there for me
I don't get how you could be so selfish
You got all the power but I'm the one who has to work for this
Why am I the one that has to talk to you?
Say something! You ain't got shit to do
But sit up there and seem so honored
Acting like a fucking Pre-Madonna!
"Serve me, pray to me, do what I want"
I'm tired of this shit, find me God!
Do you even know where to look?
I can tell you this…I won't be in the "good book".
Holler at me when you get the time
Until then….I'll dry my own eyes.


Blury

These emotions I find crystallized
Immortalized in my mind
Are the only thing that keeps me
Crucified between the lines
Of what I want and what I like
What I need and what I fight.
Trying to find the balance
I play the thoughts through my head
Circumstances that should be dead
Are the only thing that keeps my bed
From being the coffin that I want
From the fear of the thought
That one day I'll lay beside you
The one who never died
And she'll tell me I was wrong
I should have never belonged
To the one thing that keeps me sane
This nullifying grasp of pain
That I tell myself to embrace
The thought, the feel,
That look upon your face
As I find away to stay awake
To push away the dreams I make
Only to find that these white lies
Grip me by my weary mind
And takes me on a frantic ride
Until it's you that brings me back
To a place where I can't vent
And all I do is stare at the wall.


Chameleon

I could hear the beads of water drip off my nose and chin. They land in the clogged dirty sink filled with bloody water, stains of lime and soap residue, and a bloody yellow screwdriver. Filthy by any standards, my forearms rest on both sides of the sink as my face hovers over the water. With each breath I feel the warm recoiled air on my face and neck. I stare at the pale pink reflection of a man I don't recognize looking back at me from the water. I lift my head to view myself in the dirty mirror. The cracked stained mirror reflects my tired face and shirtless tattooed arms and torso. Blood and dirt with lines of sweat and water run down my chest and stomach as they quickly move in and out while I try to catch my breath. My dog tags flicker the poor lighting off of the mirror and walls. Where am I? Whose blood is this? Why am I so dirty? These questions race through my head as my watery bloodshot eyes dart back and forth, trying to take in and recognize my unfamiliar surroundings. The small restroom has been tagged up by people bored while sitting on the toilet. "Call this number for a good time….." "'So and so' is a fag!" Not to mention the barrage of tasteless hand drawn pornography by less than talented artist. The room smells of piss and everything is wet. Toilet paper scatters the floor marked with shit and footprints. The light dims periodically, filling the room with poor lighting and a dark yellow tint. I turn to face the man in the mirror hoping for some type of answer for my unique situation. The face in the mirror looks just as shocked as me.

A knock on the door fills the silent room. I can see the shadow of legs beneath the door. My darting eyes look for a quick answer and explanation…..nothing. I quickly grab the screwdriver from the sink and back up against the wall. The door begins to open and a line of light from outside reflects off the mirror and traces the left side of my face. I move farther behind the door as it opens. Outside is the sound of loud music and voices that I can't quite understand due to the loud exaggerated bass line from the speakers. The shadow slowly steps inside and the door begins to close. I begin to squeeze the screwdriver until my knuckles turn white and my heart begins to pound with adrenaline and anticipation. As the door shuts, the sound of giggling teenage girls catches me off guard. Unaware of me standing behind them they continue to talk and giggle. As they look around the room they quickly become disgusted by their surroundings. One of the girls tip toes over the scattered wet toilet paper and begins to lift her skirt. She pulls down her panties so they rest just above her knee high socks as she tries to pee without sitting on the toilet seat. The other girl pulls out lip gloss and eyeliner. She leans closer to the mirror trying to get as much light as possible so she can fix herself as nice as she can. Still talking and laughing they don't see me. They don't hear me. They don't hear the water dripping off the screwdriver splashing onto the wet floor. They don't hear my breathing. They don't know I'm here.

Once done, they gather themselves and check each other for any flaws. No toilet paper on shoes, no skirt tucked into panties, no misplaced eyeliner, no hair out of place. They compliment each other on how pretty they are and then they smile and turn for the door. They open the door and the music and light once again fill the small room. As the door closes the music and light fade to silence. I slowly walk up to the sink and move close to the dirty mirror…nothing. No reflection or bloody water. My heart begins to race as my grip on the screwdriver loosens until it silently falls to the floor. My eyes dart around as I again back up to catch a grip on my surroundings. Bloody hand prints are smeared on the walls, ceiling, and door. The light dims again as I begin to turn around, looking at the unrecognizable room. My chest and lungs begin to take in air at a much faster rate. I frantically grab the door handle and exit the room as quickly as possible.

"Ray?" A man says to me. He's dressed in a business suit complimented by blue neck tie. "Are you okay man?" The room is a well lit office filled with cubicles and ringing phones. "Dude, checkout the new girl", he whispers to me. "I hear her office is next to ours. We're a couple lucky sons of bitches! So, are we still on for golf Sunday?"

Still confused about the uncomfortable scenario that I seem to be in, I turn around and go back into the bathroom. It's clean and seems to be an entire different room all together. There are three sinks connected by a blue marble countertop and accompanied by stainless steel soap and paper towel dispensers. There are three individual mirrors with three light bulbs above each mirror. There are three urinals and three toilets along with a handicap stall separated by dark blue stall dividers. Dark blue tile cover the floor and bottom half of the walls. It's clean. The man follows me in. I look at the mirror and there I am. I'm dressed in a dark blue suit. A single breasted three buttoned suit. My shirt is white and my tie is blue. My hair is much longer than I recall. It covers the top of my ears and it looks as if I just rolled out of bed. I look well rested and clean. The man who followed me in keeps talking to me. He huddles into the urinal still talking. He's a little overweight and his hair is dark with shades of gray above his ears. He has no hair on the top of his head except for a small patch on the front with some strands connecting the island of hair to the rest of it. Still talking. He looks up toward the ceiling while he aims for the bottom of the urinal and laughs at his own jokes. Still talking.

I wait for the man to finish. He walks to the sink and holds his hands underneath the facet. The water automatically kicks on and he's still talking. When he's done washing, he grabs a paper towel and pats his hands dry while he looks into the mirror and stretches his face to see if there are boogers that needed to be removed. Still talking we exit the restroom and walk through the maze of cubicles. On our way through the maze he flicks the remaining water off of his hands and over the cubicle walls and onto the people pushing buttons on their keyboards. One of them stands up in protest of the rude flicks of water. The man still talking to me turns around and gives the protester a middle finger and says, "Stop your whining, Jerry." He then continues to walk through the maze…still talking.


Chameleon (part 2)

We enter a corner office surrounded by windows. The walls and door are both glass and completely free of finger prints. The man walks up to the glass executive desk and sits on the corner. With one foot on the floor and the other hanging from the edge of the desk, I look around and try to figure things out. The man finishes his conversation and laughs while saying, "I guess you had to be there! Anyway, I'll get out of your office and see you for lunch…Jap food right?"

Looking out the window at the cars and busy street below, I turn and look over my shoulder and hesitantly agreed. "Yeah….Jap food."

The man smiles in agreement and turns to leave the office. Half way through the door he turns around and says, "Thanks for listening. I can always count on you to listen. Thanks, man."

Sitting down behind this huge glass desk decorated by pictures of me and what looks to be the family, I am suddenly bombarded with mental pictures and silent moments. Wedding day moments, birthdays, Christmas, office parties, and other moments bombard my mind in a half second flashback. I quickly look around the office and it seems that this life I have now is coming back to me. Everything I touch adds more pictures to my already overwhelmed senses. The pictures vary from me talking to countless clients and handing out parking vouchers to pictures of me bending beautiful women over the desk and having my way with them. There are so many moments with no explanations. I see myself pacing across the floor yelling into the phone, pouring expensive Scotch for myself and others, relaxing with my feet on the desk, looking out the window, and not one moment or memory really explains to me who I am. Then the phone rings and breaks up the flashbacks.

"Hello?" I said calmly. Waiting for a response, I quickly open a drawer and pull out a notepad.

"What are you doing?" A woman's voice says.

"Working?"

"Oh? Well are you coming home to get lunch?" She asks.

"I don't know….I think I'm going to lunch with a friend."

"Japanese? I forgot about that. Where are you and Pete going? Can you pick me up something?"

"I don't know where we are going." I tell her, "What do you want me to get you?"

"You know what I like." She says with a quiet giggle. "Get me the usual…this time just don't put all that sauce on there."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later." I hang up the phone and look at the notes that I jotted down. The notes say, "Woman…" "Seems to be more than friend…" "Japanese with Pete…." "Pick up the usual with no sauce…"


In loving memory...

There is a place in everyone’s mind where modern philosophy is challenged by normalcy. A place where we look at the idea of popular opinion with intense scrutiny and an insatiable desire to overcome what people think (or what they think they know) about who we really are. The oddest thing for me is to watch people and see how they begin to mold themselves into the shape of what popular opinion and modern philosophy says they should be. I watch everyday people doing everyday things and I know that this is the poetry by which most of our ideas of normalcy are challenged. It’s a normal thing to be "cutoff" on the highway….but none of us have ever cut anyone off. It’s normal to be pissed off at a bad customer….but we are never the bad customer. It’s normal to hate the idea of racism….but we are never racist. Do you understand my point? Normalcy for me is crying while watching a touching "Reba" moment, but laughing at the fact that my friends and family have forsaken me. Normalcy for me is spending 10 dollars on a dinner and leaving a 10 dollar tip, but rolling my pants up to walk in the water hazard to retrieve a 1 dollar golf ball. I know that normalcy is actually quite the opposite of normal. There is a cave in everyone’s mind that we all retreat to…a place where it’s okay to feel normal and experience the beauty of raw human emotion. The mistake that most of us make is thinking that we are alone. You are not alone at all. Know this…I am always in that cave. All you have to do is ask and I’ll be there.


In loving memory of Merlin Garrett (1978-2007). You will be missed


Sorry...

I sometimes feel like I'm the only one who is sane
I am the only one around, who understands your pain
It feels so alone, in this world of smiling faces
Regrets of choices, and opportunities never taken

Why couldn't I see, your hand reaching out
With my eyes clinched in fear, it was your voice that lead me out
You never wavered, you stayed until the end
Even though I pushed you away, and you still remained to the end

I'm so sorry….
I never meant to be….
I just never meant to be….
I should have never been….

I lay awake at night hoping to hear your voice
Walks through the park without you should have never been a choice
It feels so alone, in this world of smiling faces
This life of scattered hatred, and lives never taken

I wish that I could be the one who went away
To see the face of god while he turns his back again
You were always so strong. You made life seem so good
Your smile said so much, and your eyes did what they could.

I'm so sorry….
I never meant to be….
I just never meant to be….
I should have never been….


Nothing to remember.

His breath was heavy and his heart pounded with fear and adrenaline. How did he get to this point in his life? He leaned against the bathroom wall and slid down until he rested on the back of his calves. His light blue button down shirt was freshly ironed and he rolled up his sleeves to rest just below his elbows as he did with every shirt of that style. He wore freshly dry-cleaned black slacks and shiny slip on loafers. His hair was fixed perfectly the way he wanted it, short on the sides and back but long enough to sport a messed up look on top. His breath had the smell of alcohol but his mind was still sharp. He wondered why he was here. What purpose could he serve by staying? What purpose could he serve by leaving? As his eyes darted back and forth, he retraced every step of his life trying desperately to figure out what turn to regret. Tears filled his eyes but kept from running down his face until he squeezed his eyes closed in frustration. His nose began to run as he struggled to find his breath. Is this the way it's supposed to be? He quickly looked up to the heavens with hopes of a sign, but to no avail there was no sign. There was nothing. Silence filled the room where hope once sponsored the thought of fairytales. But today, those fairytales were what they were supposed to be. With that thought he squeezed the very life out of that pistol. He slowly slumped to his right until his bloody lifeless face rested on the floor. His thick crimson blood painted the wall and ceiling. No notes to read. No story to tell. It just ended….with nothing to remember.


Spy vs. Spy

I love the way you dance while you're washing the dishes

The way you used the spoon as a mic and lip sing to all the classics

I love the way you eat ice cream while watching sad movies

The way you laugh out loud to Jim Carey and appreciate his humor

I love the way you water the plants that surround the back porch

You wear those old jogging pants with that Old Navy shirt

I love the way you drive like your late all the time

The way you go to work at noon, but your back by nine

I love the way you shower…your singing is perfect

The way dry off, it makes me feel like I don't deserve it

I love the way you sleep with just your panties and a T-shirt

They way you talk in your sleep and moan like your mouth hurts

I love the way you don't know that I've been watching…

Form the house across the street while your husbands been workin'


Reverse Psychology

Laying in the grass with blood and glass in my face
I fly up and through the windshield as it fixes itself
Reversing from the tree my eyes unclinch
I land on the road as I reverse through the ditch
I sit in the seat behind the wheel with my eyes wide open
I grip the wheel but relax as I pull the smoke in
My bottle is empty but it's filling up fast
Tears roll up my face into my eyes as I yell "bastard!"
The cigarette flies back to my hand as I put it in my lips
The ash grows smaller until the cigarette is new again
My eyes are blood shot but they are growing whiter
The phone goes to my ear while the voice is a fighter
"On move to have I…call don't, over it's"
My fist relax as my teeth stop their grit
The phone rings and I know it's my girl calling me
The windows are down another day of enjoyment
I reverse into the gas station as the tank goes empty
Ten dollars down to zero as I put the card into my wallet
I reverse home and walk backwards to the door and unlock it
Take off my shoes and empty my pockets
Sit down on the couch and the TV comes on
The score lowers as I root for my team back home
"bones my in it feel can I, day good a Today's"


My face in the mirror?

I could build you a city and it wouldn't be big enough
I could throw you a line and it wouldn't be long enough
I could carry you on my shoulders but I wouldn't be strong enough
I could sing you a song and it wouldn't be loud enough
I could paint you a picture and it wouldn't be pretty enough
I could walk on water and it wouldn't be good enough
I try so hard to be what you want
I can't fight your demons when it's me that haunts
I know the implications seem to point fingers
I single myself out, knowing that it's me that had failed you
I have become what most consider the darker part of humanity
I dream dreams that tell futures and I never prayed for this!
What most consider ugly, I find the beauty with in
Death has its perks, if you are mad enough to win
Secrets have their advantage if you are evil enough to use'm
Did you forget that I had you by throat and didn't choke you?
I need to remember who did who wrong
I need to decide which path to go on
I need your help to put away the pill
To know what it means to be a man of will
So mister man in the mirror, you need to remember
It's my face that you carry but it's your will that they believe in


3rd Eye.

I laid there in bed with my daughter's head resting on my arm. Her hair softly touches my face and her hand tightly holds on to my thumb. In her sleep, she stretches and pushes her small legs between my knees, using my leg as a makeshift blanket. She turns her head toward my face and pushes her forehead against my cheek, allowing her breath to warm my neck. She often giggles quietly, letting me know that the thoughts running through her head are that of a good nature.

I've drifted off to sleep, but the noise of the rain has kept my attention. With my heartbeat ringing in my ear, I can hear the sound of the floor and the shifting of weight at the foot of my bed. I open my eyes without moving a muscle. I look out the corner of my eye and see the shadow of the person who is slowly walking in the room. I lift my head to welcome her, but there is no one there to welcome.

As my head slowly made its way back to the pillow, my heartbeat has increased quite a bit. A chill covered my forehead and the room once again felt like it was being occupied by someone other than me and my daughter. My foot felt the cool air from the ceiling fan as the blanket felt like it was being lifted from my feet. My daughter pulled her feet up close to her, as if she also felt the cool of the fan. My heart as begun to beat faster, for now I'm sure there is someone in the room. I sit up fast, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone, but there was nothing. The covers were left untouched and my feet were still tucked beneath the blanket.

Someone or something is here. I pulled my daughter closer to me hoping that her innocence would grant me grace of some sort. I closed my eyes tightly, hoping that the rain would drowned out any noise that could be made. I felt a hand touch the corner of the bed by my foot. As the floor creaked, I could feel the hand softly drag itself along the edge of the mattress. Coming closer to my head, my heart began to pound faster and faster. I clinch my eyes closed as I felt the breath of my daughter stop. I open my eyes to look at my daughter and I see her looking out the corner of her eye, at something or someone standing behind me looking over at her. I see a small smile on my daughters face as she slowly closes her eyes once again. I turn to see what my daughter seemed to be interested in and I see nothing.

Her breath, once again, warmed my neck as she stretched out. She pushes her feet toward the end of the bed and softly giggles. Then I hear her whisper, "Daddy? She's gone." She turns toward me, and wraps her small arms around me. "Goodnight, Daddy."


Masochist

What do you want from me? I told you I would stay.

I'd be here if you needed me, no change from yesterday.

The wire tears my wrist as I try to get away.

Sweat burns my eyes, and my teeth grit from the pain.

My head hangs in agony as she circles me and smiles.

She puts that rusted knife blade just beneath my eye.

She moves in to kiss me but stops an inch away

Stares and me and smiles, and begins to lick my face.

She bites my lip then softly whispers in my ear.

"You've trusted me so long, I don't appreciate the fear."

She puts the handle in my mouth so I don't bite myself.

Takes her nails down my chest and she loosens up my belt.

She looks into my eyes as she drops to her knees.

She reaches out to touch me; I close my eyes and grit my teeth.

"Don't get excited, it's not what you think"

She tightens the wire around my ankles, until I start bleed.

My body trembles as my eyes roll back into my head

I felt the severed flesh release the blood, as chills ran up my legs.

I hold my breath hoping that this will ease the pain.

As I release the air I'm holding spit runs down my face.

Screaming for relief, I begged for her to stop

She giggles so sweetly, then she begins to mock

She locks her fingers in my hair as she licks the blood from my chest.

She takes the knife from my mouth and carves the word
Masochist

Silent from the shock my legs begin to give

The wire around my wrist starts peeling off my skin

I black out then wake up, I grab my wrist and in surprise

There was nothing to show that there was ever any wire

I run to the mirror to make sure it was a dream

Sweaty from the trauma, nothing is ever as it seems

My heart is still pounding from the fear and the stress

With the word Masochist still carved into my chest


Jaded.

I put the belt around my arm, and I pumped my fist. A chill covers my arm as the veins swell. "I'm only doing what everyone wants", is how I justify my actions. The needle isn't as sharp as I remember, until the cold needle breaks the skin with a sudden pop. As my eyes role back into my head and my body goes limp, my mind wonders into places that I can't bare to go without the courage injected into my system. The dream of dreams has compelled me to look inside my inner thoughts and marvel at the misguided awareness that all of us hold our convictions in. In this dream, I can see every thought's beginning and end. I can almost manipulate them in ways you only wish you could without the help of this cold needle. I can see the origin of my emotions. The place where hate boils and pride cowers in the darkest of corners. I am welcomed here by my darkest secrets and I have yet to feel the rejection from the truth. I have been here many times before. But this time, this self-inflicted state of mind has been enticed by truths beyond comprehension.

I want to tell you everything, I really do. I want you to know what the product of circumstances looks like, when viewed through the eyes of self-loathing. As pathetic as it sounds, I want you to take this trip with me. Lower your standards for once in your life, and allow me to guide you through the deepest and darkest secrets. You need to see what is in my mind, so you can appreciate what is in yours. Will you take this journey with me?


Father, forgive me...for I have sinned.

It's been 28 days since my last confession. I've sponsored sins, that to some may seem obsessive. I'm a watcher, a sniper, a bird's eye view. I'm your neighbor, your friend, and your conscience too. An observer of humanity and people at their worst. Wondering why we even pull over to watch the hearse. We put'em there, it evolution at it's best. Man kills man for taking the S off his chest. And the children watch, in horror at first. But they grow numb to the pain, and look for help in the church? Please…tell me that this isn't true. Yeah there's a God, but not the one created by you. You feed lies to your kids, like food at a homeless shelter. The truth is there, if you filter out all the bullshit. I'm sorry to be such skeptic. I've seen men in the church preach, then turn into the devil. I've read the good-book, and I've seen all the movies. I have to say your blue eyed Jesus, is your biggest delusion. Think Osama, when you picture Jesus, the same face and beard. A different message to believers, more defined and revered. You call it biscuit, I call it bread, the same words from the preacher. Apply your beliefs to your life, or you scared to be the teacher? "So many questions, huh…lets point the finger at you." Okay, but for what, you're in a game I can't lose. I'm the author to all this religious propaganda. You think your opinion matters when it's only my thoughts I'm throwing at you? I'm laughing at you now, you should see your face…scarred from a world that put you in your place. Who am I to be the one to try to read the future. I'm the past….and the past was yesterdays future. Did I lose, you? NO? Just try to keep up. I'm the old dog, looking to teach the young pup. Did you know that 1 out 3 women were raped? Molested by fathers and brothers, while mom was baking cakes? It's daunting, I know, but lets push a little farther. 1 out of 12 men admitted to being fondled. Just think about the ones who decided to said nothing. We could probably push that 12 all the way down to a 7. What about those people walking around your town. Who molested kids, but no one admitted it ever went down. I bet you know at least 1 person that was a victim. And if you're the priest I'm confessing to, better make it 50. It's been 28 days since my last confession. I've sponsored sins, that to some may seem obsessive.


Welcome to Reality

I had a dream last night that the grass was green and the sky was blue. White clouds gracefully floated by being pushed by the a wind that smelled like summer flowers. People smiled at me with only the intent of being nice, and for some reason, the bird's song is comforting to my ears. Then I woke up. And I realized that the grass isn't green and the sky isn't blue. Things that are....aren't anymore. The clouds are black and they don't gracefully slide across the sky, they are stationary and full of anger. There is no peace and there isn't anyone who cares. People do what they have to, to survive, and the only way they are able to look at themselves in the mirror....is because they think that today they did more good than bad.

I rolled out of bed this morning and slipped on the pants that I wore yesterday. I found a white T-shirt laying on a basket mixed with clean and dirty clothes. I grab a pack of cigarettes from of the top of the dresser and took one out. I put it on my lips and walked down the hall. My hair has a life of it's own and it's been 3 days since a razor has touched my face. I walk outside to grab the lighter I keep stashed in the mailbox, and I light that cigarette. Pulling that first hit, I inhale the smoke looking for that relaxing sensation to compensate the stale breath that is in my mouth. The sky, still dark from reality, has reminded me about the significance of today. Today is the day that my search begins. I'm looking for something, I'm not to sure what it is, but I'm looking.


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Confession

Forgive me father, for I have sinned, it's been 28 years since my last confession. I grew up so innocent, what happened? I never wanted to become the monster that I am today. Maybe my childhood wasn't so innocent? Maybe I just chose to look at it that way. Me and my brother used to perform "smash and grabs" at a local neighborhood store. I was only 6! We then would sell the stuff on the playground. We used to come home to an empty apartment. Mom (Mona), or the asshole we called Big Robert, were hardly there. Which was good! At least there would be a little time before he would make us fight each other, while his friends would take bets. I loved my brother, but when it's you against him....the loser gets punched in the face by all the people watching, you tend to set love aside. He would always let me win anyways, he was only 8! Sometimes Robert would point out some innocent kid in the project parking lot, and make me and my brother rob him....or at least fight him. And sometimes, that innocent victim was in his 20's. Lord forbid we lose! You lose, you don't come home! You sleep outside under the stoop, hoping it wasn't a cold night. I was only 6! Sometimes the TV wouldn't pick up channels...that's life right? Not in my house! That's my fault! Now I'd have to stand holding the rabbit ear antenna, and if there was any static because I wasn't strong enough to hold it up...then my brother got a lashing across the bottom of his feet, with a switch of some sort...usually pine. He was only 8! He remembers more than me! He holds more anger than I thought possible. I chose to forget, he chose to take the fight back to him. What I do remember, angers me so much that I still get tears in my eyes. I promised that I would be the last thing Robert saw before I closed his eyes for good. I still keep that thought...in the back of my mind. Robert and my mom, are what they make morbid movies about these days. I'm the one that will never tell you what happened, because I'd rather take this to my grave. But Father, I can't keep this up. I can't keep hiding my past. My kids don't need to know what bloodline they hold, but they need to know that I'm a soldier. There is nothing they can go through, that I haven't experienced. Forgive me father, for I have sinned!


Seasons Change

Morning coffee has always been the way I'd wake up. I'd pour my cup and look out the window above the sink, wondering if the sun's warmth on my face was precursor to the way the day should go. Fresh snow covered the ground and has yet to be interrupted by the feet of children, or the shovels of the hurrying neighbors. There is just something special about the way the sun dances on the surface of the snow. It's warm light seems to have no affect on the freshly powdered ground. The trees have traded their rustling leaves for the barren limbs that only make the worst of howling noises and are inhabited by the scavaging crows, but there is still something beautiful about the way the snow covers them. The way the sun easily slips through the trees that once hid it's morning light, reminds us of the way we should be...resilient, powerful, and confident. Of course, the snow only last for a season, but the sun....the sun is forever. Sometimes it seems overpowered by circumstance, but in reality it's still there. It will usually be the one thing that we are trying to block while we focus on the snow. As I sip my coffee, I smile, knowing that the bitter cold will soon pass. I feel that there is still a need to enjoy the snow while it last.


Lost Diary

Dear Diary,
I watched her as she circled the basketball court during PE. The perfect smooth skin on the small of her back made me melt, as she lifted her shirt to cool herself. The way her friends would follow behind her, signaled what everyone already knew, that she was the leader of the pack. She pranced around school like she owned it...and she did! Her perfect smile hid her perfect teeth, which only added to the pleasure of looking at her perfect body. She's older than me, I know, but is that to say that there is no chance? She probably doesn't even know that I exsist, but who is to say she won't tomorrow? I know I'm young, but I know what I feel is real! She's the one for me....SHE HAS TO BE! Why would God allow anyone to feel like this....if it wasn't real? One day, she'll be mine and I'll take care of her like a precious diamond. Well, good night for now....I'll be back tomorrow


Flower Girl

The aroma of summer flowers filled the heavily occupied room across the hall. I never really liked the smell of flowers, and I never really liked the room across the hall. To me it always represented what I never understood. Why is it that so many people will gather to mourn the death of a loved one? I always felt that maybe the dead didn't appreciate the gesture. Maybe we should be joyful that they have taken their rightful place in their new heavenly homes. Maybe there isn't a heavenly home. Maybe this is their final resting place. I don't know, but that flowered filled room across the hall has held the dead for as long as I can remember. It holds no grudges. It has no preferences. So is it the room that I fear, or the flowers? I'm not for sure, but the one thing I do know, is that no one has walked out of that room once they have laid in it. No woman, no man, no child has escaped the clutches of that room. And pardon my boldness, but what makes me so special? Why am I the one to walk away? So as the aroma of summer flowers fill the heavily occupied room across the hall....I find myself smiling in the belief that maybe.....


Flower girl 2

Maybe it was supposed to be this way, a day when the sun's radiant light has been brighter than I can remember. The flowers are more colorful and more alive than any other flower that has had the honor of resting on this floor. I'm sure many have thought the same, but for some reason today has to be the best day for such a celebration. They all line up waiting for me...today, I'm the special one. Because if things don't go the way fate has intended, at least they remember who the flower girl was. I might grow up and change in appearance, but I'll always be remembered for the little flower girl with the perfect flower throwing technique. Today is my day! Today, I will show up ever person in the celebration! I'll have that special dance with every person in the party. I've rehearsed this for so long....there is no way I can mess this up! This grin on my face says it all......
......"What do you mean, 'there is no bride?'"


Flower Girl 3

They laid there limp and lifeless. I found a peace watching their bodies laying there under that graffiti covered bridge. Everyone else seems so busy. They rush to there jobs and away from what they don't understand, and they never see the beauty of nature. They never understand that at this moment, these two are as peaceful as they will ever be, serving the purpose of symbolism and love. The memories have gone from anger and rage, to a peace and understanding of purposes. That's why I stand here and gaze at these two beautiful lifeless roses placed so gently on the ground. Someone’s memory is being celebrated and I want to share in that moment. Will I be celebrated? Will I have someone to drop roses on my place of death, only to celebrate the life I lived? I don't know.....but I gotta get to work.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 29.08.2011

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