I stare at the boxes full of childhood junk. I open the nearest box to find countless drawings I had made in kindergarten. I pick up the top one, a crayon drawing of what was probably supposed to be an elephant. It’s wrinkled, smelling like an eternity of peanut butter sandwiches. I start to throw it in the trash, but instead I carefully place it on a nearby stool.

Picking up the next thing, I realize that it is drawn in angry red scribbles, depicting an apple. It’s teared, and stained. I turn it over, reading a much neater label, proclaiming it as an ‘emotion picture’. This one, I do throw in the trash, crumpling it into a ball.

Retrieving a watercolor painting of a lopsided mouse with a jagged purple tail comes next. I quickly place this one on the stool, remembering how my teacher had shown it to the rest of the class.

I reach in again, pulling out another drawing. I can’t see it. Everything’s gone blurry, and I notice I’m crying. I compile my artwork, reaching to smooth out the creases, but I stop.

The creases are a part of it, as important as anything else.

Imagine yourself beyond the picturesque beauty on the outside.

Beyond the cage you hold yourself in.

Who do you see?

You are made up of so many people, your ancestry runs deeper than you will ever know. Perhaps you’re made of slaves or slaveholders.

Do you let that define you?

When you push back the curtains in the morning and let the light hit your face, what does the sun see? Or perhaps, the moon?

The night is dangerous in your town but how do you contribute? When you hear screams do you run towards them or away from them? Perhaps the answer is wired into your DNA. Who have you become

Dark and gloomy days inside

Graceful tears softly cried

Tears drip from lonely eyes

Bottled up secrets and lies

Cold arms linger near

Bright blue eyes full of fear

Long nights spent alone

Left by herself, on her own

Hoping for better days soon

Stars shining with the moon

Sad days feeling lost

What does her life really cost?

All those people don’t care

Friends that her loved won't be there

She’s about ready to end it all

But she stands up feeling tall

Facing the world so big and cruel

Cause if she were to end it she’d be a fool.

Doney’s witty humor and gleaming smile never failed to distract me.

His charisma overlapped the overwhelming grief that the tormented soul called my heart burdened.

He was like an oddity in a crowd ;he stood out like no other.

He took the pain from me like a bootle of rum and buried it deep down for me until the facade faded yet again.

I couldn’t help but let a cheeky grin slip out onto my face when he softly told me “I’ll run into any sunset with you”.

We both knew he couldn’t run along side me into a certain light I called,“fate”.

It didn’t matter how many times he reassured me;he could never run along my path,I wouldn’t let him.

No matter how much you love someone your selfish yearning for them can’t burden their being.

That unconditional love that I had for Doney is what lead me to free him.

Passing with someone you love ,who doesn’t have much time left ether,sounds unpleasantly reassuring when y’all both have nothing but breathing tubes and a few predict months on your hands.

Doney has a chance at life though, only 40%,but it’s enough (not just for me but the people who considered him family).

I let go of not only Doney but holding my breath and our senseless love.

While he was sentenced to another “check-up” I finally put my tormented soul to rest.

I buried not only my pain,but my life that day.

 The indelible memories of Doney’s witty humor and gleaming smile helped put me to rest.

He never managed to fail me.

A wave of cold air blew over me as soon as the train doors opened. I shouldn’t have sat this close to the exit, but at least no one else was sitting next to me. I was looking out onto the platform, it was empty. Just like this train. The few people on it were quiet shadows, not relevant. But I knew that this silence would not last for long.

Soon enough, I saw the first of the pack, the commuters were coming. It was quite entertaining to see them so oblivious at first, only to then realize that their train was about to leave. Some started running, but the doors were closing; they wouldn’t make it. The doors slammed shut. I heard footsteps; had someone made it after all?

As the train left the station, faces and figures in the window blended together, they were still standing there, but I was already gone, never to be seen again. I felt a tap on my shoulder, breaking me out of my reverie.

A tall figure stood over me, was it someone important? Was this the turning point in my life?

“Your ticket please, Miss,” he said.

Speaker hates Cecelia

Cecelia: latin name meaning Blind

she’s a milky skinned girl with sharp bones

and a spine you can run fingers down to create

hollow music. but she hides those stalagmites, uses a

tattoo. black ink, chinese words. speaker has

no idea what it means. it’s ugly.

she has concave cheeks and eyes and a cavern between

the bones of her neck. crater-faced, dusty grey

with a dark side. speaker feels cold when she

passes by. wonders if she would shatter

if dropped.

her hair hangs like a ferret over her shoulder and

the rest falls down her back in frayed white ropes

with knots and tangles and it smells. dreadlocked.

dead ends. on top, unruly baby hairs. speaker wants to

pluck them out one by one.

speaker wants to count the bones on her spine. would

hit each with a fist until it pops back under the skin.

until the skin is smooth. a heavenly body, faultless in complexion.

speaker dreams of taking a black marker and filling in

the rest of her back. filling in her cheeks and eyes and neck.

uniform, neat, clean. speaker speaks chinese now. would

brand 听 on each thin finger with a needle. careful to

avoid the chalky bones.  

speaker sees the bodies that turn to her as to a warm fire

in a cold winter that would engulf her fingers in silky onyx.

speaker hears her bones plead like the crackle of a

burning log when she walks. barefoot. delicate. i’m here, crack.

look at me. snap.

You were Winter trying to convince me that you were Spring,

The biting warmth that embraced me when you were around

Was the bite frost so cold it burned

It was the lie of love,

The lie of warmth,

The lie of safety,

You knew I hated winter,

The cold hit too close to my heart,

To my pulse

Threatening to slow and freeze the blood that already was weak with fighting to flow

Snow and Winter are disciples of deceit

Faces of purity and beauty distract

As the warmth, the fluidity of life gets trapped.

I knew too much of being trapped,

Of having the energy that fills me drain

Slowly down-- a faulty tap

The shackles of nothing binding me to the ground,

Convincing me I was safer on ground,

Snow seduces a sense of calm

The anger that roils within the chest of a broken lover calms,

Unfeeling becomes the anger that has made its place, nestled amongst the gapes of heartbreak

Winter coaxes minds into numb submission,

Yet the only thing worse than being broken from love,

Is being broken and feeling nothing,

The calm of winter is fake, freezing over anger and flaws doesn't erase them

But maybe if I stand outside long enough the cold will crawl its way towards what remains of my heart

And take its life and energy away, maybe then I won’t care,

Maybe then the pain of rejection of being left won’t sting

No matter, Spring will come and thaw the hurt heart, and anger will rush back in

But it’s still winter,

And White Pure Paint settles on the planes of this world hushing it

Softening it,

This world is not soft, and

Fake facades mean nothing.

And seasons don’t really matter, because Summer is the season you left me.

Mr. Summerson didn’t usually celebrate Halloween. He never even gave out candy. But this year his boss invited him to a party, and he decided it would be impolite not to come.

After a few beers, he was in such a good mood that he even helped out with carving pumpkins and let his friends talk him into seeing the fortune-teller. Inside the dim-lit tent, a small woman dressed in a funny costume sat before a crystal ball. She looked him in the eyes and said, “You will die tonight.” Mr. Summerson tittered and rejoined his friends. But after a while, he realized he wasn’t enjoying the party as much anymore, so he left early.

Just as he got home, the doorbell rang. Who could it be?, he wondered, as he didn’t usually have guests at this hour.

At his door stood death. Black cloak, no face and a sharpened scythe, ready to reap his soul.

She was right after all, were the last of his thoughts.

The doctors say he died of a heart attack, though they are unsure what caused it. Pity that he chose this moment though, he gave the poor trick-or-treater quite a scare.

Slithering about,

looking for its prey,

The venom dripping from its teeth,

Just like the words from society,

Their words harsh as their venom,

Their prey cowers beneath them,

Manipulating them,,

Leading them blindly toward a trap,

Hurting the prey and killing it,

Snakes are dangerous yes,

But so are people.

Adrift

“I’d have nightmares of other islands stretching away from mine, infinities of islands, islands spawning islands”.- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

New horizons welcome my presence each day as my memories start to fade. Blue, crystal waters emulate a tragic tale of the circle of life. We will all eventually die and after death  is where our story truly begins; as the memories of us will have new color to it, they will recover themselves in the minds of those who mourn us, yearning for our breath. No food, water and no end. She seems to stretch farther with every passing minute, yet somehow my soul feels closer to the sun.

Millions of miles away, able to observe everything at once. The stars have become my best friend now as I; adrift here on this seemingly never ending ocean. The once terrifying sound of animals swimming by as the night fell, now comforts me; as if it were to never occur I might find myself going insane from the solitude. I can almost make out the curses my stomach is shouting at me. But what can I do here, pruning in the heat of the harsh sun and salty water.  In an attempt to ignore my stomach before it starts digesting itself, I focus on the sounds around me. The smallest amount of light makes its way onto the oceans reflective surface toward the east; another day has gone by.

As I am struggling to listen to the ocean over the cries of my stomach I hear a familiar sound. In fact, I think it’s one I’ve heard before. I can’t quite describe it but it seems as if there is something below the surface. It appears that my presence has interested a creature nearby. I should have expected this, at some point I would have to face death. Due to my lack of movement my muscles have begun to stiffen, so the consumption of my body should be easy; as I can not put up much of a fight. The only thing keeping me afloat in this god forsaken place, suddenly accelerates. I jump, a movement I thought I could no longer do.

My back painfully peels off of the raft as I get up to check the water beneath me. I almost screamed as I saw a large grey tail behind me, I scooted to the farthest side of my raft in shock. A shark? Dear God a shark. This is not how I wanted to spend my final hours; getting ripped apart by the one of the oceans most fearsome creatures. But it was not alone there were several others behind it, this would be a feast. My body shuddered, my nervous system kicking in as I cried. My vision clouded from the tears bursting down my face as I accepted my fate. I then began to hear clicks and whistles coming from the very creatures themselves.

I inhaled sharply, feeling relieved, I remembered that many dolphins whistle. I was proven correct as one of the dolphins emerged its head from water and seemed to smile. I thought I had gone completely insane, once I heard myself erupting with laughter. I reached my hand over the raft and rubbed its nose. I sat down once again, composing myself, watching as  the dolphins that were once the rear of the raft made their way to its sides. The dolphins were now slowly propelling the raft.

A cool breeze caressed my face, making me shiver. It’d been a while since I have encountered the cold. However it feels nice compared to the blistering heat, I smirked in the sudden comfort I now felt. I didn’t quite know where they were trying to guide me, but I didn’t question it. I belonged to the dolphins now, their beautiful grey bodies shimmering in the water. I let my head sink further into the raft, perhaps I could rest here. My eyes have been burning from my constant staring at the sky, although they were reluctant to close at first they finally obeyed

. My mind began to open, showing me images of past encounters with friends, family, co-workers, the facility I was admitted in. I was so engrossed with my own remembrances, that I couldn’t climb out of the hole my mind began to dig with them. I couldn’t escape, my eyes wouldn’t open. Then, the colors began to fade, voices became mute, and silence echoed louder than ever before. My feeling of self was fading, I couldn’t even feel the raft gently moving in the ocean anymore. There was just blackness, no sight, no movement, no end; except for my own.