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Why would anyone want to be here, where I am?
Here doesn't look appealing from anywhere, I say.
They say, anyone from here can attest to there.
Those who left from here appeal me to there.
Why would there be better than here?
Who are you to take me there?
Why am I the only one still here?

The Bad Three Leaves

The Bad Three Leaves

            As we all know disasters are imminent in high school; the forgotten fly: walking forever with your zipper down and nobody says a thing, embarrassing. Dropping your tray in lunch, followed up by the student body applauding your ability to be clumsy. Accidentally letting the fart you've held clinched between your cheeks since second period, because you're too much of a pussy to face the school bullies in the restroom, slip out during class receiving absolutely no sympathy from anyone, teachers included. If this has ever happened to you I'm sorry, you probably transfered schools or moved to a different state.  Kids at this age are cruel; your own best friend will probably consider and most likely choose to disown you if you publicly shit your pants.

P.S. never tell a thirteen year old, friend or not, that you are constipated, period.

            My aptitude for personal embarrassment is a privileged; you can’t learn my kind of misfortune. You see, growing up, the alley across the way from my parents house was the hangout place for our street. And there, in plain view, yet hidden from young eyes, was a shitload of poison ivy; a venerable cove of the stuff.
            It was like our own jungle back there. While we used to play here when younger, in middle school this is where we would come to smoke, hidden from  our parents, this is where my rebellion began. This is where I was introduced to poison ivy. Why we stood so close to the stuff I don’t know, someone once told me that poison ivy has three leaves… a lot of plants have three leaves. But somewhere between the Marlboro reds and Newports I touched it. I mean, I didn’t touch it but somehow I did.

            It would be weeks before I'd show my fucking face in school without damaging anyone's sight. I remember this one morning clearly; ready for school I stumbled downstairs late as always, “Mom we need to leave.” Usually I rode the school bus but this morning I had spent too much time comforting myself in the mirror, insisting that I didn’t look that bad and could brave going to class today. My mom, bound with brutal compassion, allowed me to be confident and said nothing as we loaded our selves into the minivan. School was just a few blocks away; I could have walked if I ever woke up early enough. We rode in silence and at the first red light the rearview mirror laughed at me. I decided that I should take one more look at my face. “Shit,” I thought, “I am not going to school today.” My mom could barely contain herself when I grabbed her arm, looked at her with my crusty swollen left eye; the elephant man face we called it, just on the left side but the whole left side and I pleaded, “I CAN NOT GO TO SCHOOL LIKE THIS!” I thought I was going to pee in my pants laughing so hard. Stewing with amusement my mom turned the car around, we both knew damn well that I wasn’t going to make it to school looking the way I did, but she sure was going to let me try.

             

What Flesh Denies

Precious, is the flesh that life denies.

Hearing only this heartbeat, time repeatedly serves the thoughts of freedom.
Questions arise for the existence of skin. A partition between souls.
Multiple emotions join forces, raising goose bumps, dilating pupils.
A dripping chill edges down as the layers are removed.
Cautiously the soul is bared.

Humble, is the heart for housing a soul.

There's disturbance on the faces of the moral passersby.
Their fluttered beats appeal to fingers within for warmth.
Only, they're just a cage; inanimate.
Without life they're fragile and useless.
Manufactured respectfully for appearance.

Sweet, is the mouth for speaking the truth.

When was the first time you heard someone say , "The truth will set you free?"
Lies unfold, entangled in the throats of hateful leaders.
A twelve year old girl puts them all in their place.

Isis.

Isis has taken flight. The attack, a fool's surprise. Their army, great. Thousands await secure in hiding for our cities reaction to the first wave of warriors. On my horse, as yet unstruck by the arrows peircing land and flesh all around. Nearby a woman needs help. Swooping her up behind me, we ride. She's showing no fear, only faith. This is Isis, Goddess that she is; running with her people, fighting by their side, unknown of course but equal in honor.

She's begun to guide my way, we approach a nearby hedge maze leading out of the city. There are many routes to choose, but she knows the perfect way.

We dismount and run. The citadel has been taken and the lower town overrun. My only duty now is to protect her. Following closely behind her. Faintly catching the delicate, otherwordly scent of her skin for brief moments when she slows down to take a corner. She looks back from time to time and there is almost a hint of playfylness in her composure.

Not a wrong turn. Just out of luck. They're closing in from every direction. Everyone is looking for us; for her. Horses armed with men armed for battle. Other's hacking their way, slicing directly through the hedges.

She turns to look at me and the fear subsides. She's not crying but there are tears, sweat and blood. She pulls me close. She kisses me, then we explode.

We are safe.

Watching You

Watching you

I do, I do,
I know you who,
watches the stars watching me
watch you.

Breathe in precious air,
then exhale letting you...
hang in dreamy memories
and live to tell the truth.

What do you feel?
What you do.
What you do feel.
What do you?

I do, I do,
I know you who,
watches the stars watching you
watch me.

Swallow hollow thoughts,
with formal bows I plead.
Never too much to live for,
in the end I'm simply me.

We watch.
We breathe.
We live.
We do.

I do, I do
I know you who,
watches the stars watching me...
love you.

Tried and Tired.

I am an emotion.
My body begs for distraction,
I hate it.
Expression's fade.

Mentally, I bash myself;
I'm never good enough.
Physically, I push myself,
run until it hurts.

Abuse is appealing,
I've loved it.
Drained life goes everywhere.
Time served.

Tinkering with feelings,
I wake at night with thought.
Fallen emotions rake my heart,
I take a stance and fight.

The scent of replenishment
lingers in the morning.
I am an emotion.
Revive me.

Stardust.

There are several shiny slivers of stars all around where I stand. They cut with a sense happiness; self-sufficient and short lived as it is.

“The only way out is to step back into the darkness, the light will come later.” This giant voice explains. Authoritatively It booms directions to relax, my head swirls from the sound in the room. Or just in my head. A dream or, how did I get here? Suddenly I’m sick and want nothing more than to not be wherever it is I am; insanely surrounded by these addictive shards of happiness. Multiplying now and sharper than diamonds, my skin is cut. This fragile flesh, stabbed, cut and sliced; gaping holes dripping sunlight. I cannot help but to look where I have been sliced, hypnotized by the light infecting my eyes, I can’t control my desires. I want nothing but to die here unable to have any other thought as my last. Blood falls as softly as snowflakes, smacking the darkness beneath me with stains of bluish-white lights. This time I can feel him before he starts speaking.

“They're addicting and pleasing aren't they, these lights?" They are pieces of yourself, tossed aside at times when you felt a part of who you really are had died. Bonds broken within you; only, the hope in these pieces never fades. That’s the light inside. Here, they wait to rejoin with the first light of your existence, the light in your heart.” “Step back into the darkness, fall. Leave every thought behind in one leap.”

 I don’t even hesitate and without any knowledge of what is actually around me in this dark besides the pale lights and this voice, I step back and feel nothing. Complete darkness actually looks grey when your falling this fast. I have no fear. And then, like a bomb; ripping through every fiber of my being, my chest explodes light, flashing in the wake of my fall and for a brief moment I wonder if I might be someone’s shooting star. There is no pain although I can feel everything. More brilliant now are the shards of stars, the pieces of me I had lost. They are chasing after me now and closing in quickly. At first chance the light I’m emitting and the parts of me that are catching up connect. There are fizzing sounds, fire is ripping through my veins and I feel whole again. I hear my name...far off. I don’t know where I’m headed but it’s got to be better than where I came from. My eyelids are heavy, but am I falling asleep or waking up? I am afraid of losing myself all over and fear creeps in before, again, I feel their voice.
 Then It says..,  "Do not fear, trust the light you possess."