Super Bubble Pop

how did i live in a bubble for so long without knowing it?

or did i know and just forget continuously?

like every single fucking day of my life?

how do i fix this?  how do i make things good?

how do i become real and not a cartoon or a counterfeit copy of myself?

what if i can’t breath if i pop this bubble

what if the lack of oxygen is what has been sustaining me?

wait, no, that’s impossible because there is air in a tornado

you know, the kind that rips through people’s lives unconcerned about the results

the kind that rises up out of nothing because it longs for rotating defined attentions instead of really really thin clouds of debris and dust that are never long standing

what i make up in my head has been so much more interesting that what has been going on around me

and i always thought that was living, but maybe that’s not, maybe that’s day dreaming?  or just dreaming?

and what the hell has everyone else been doing while i have been dreaming?

how have you all been living?

there are too many sharps around right now for the bubble to maintain its configuration

it’s going to pop

i wish i could just seep out like a small slice in shrinking  balloon

slow and easy and calm and less exhausting

painless

Elvis

i’ve been down in that hole that alice found

but it didnt really seem like a wonderland, more like a death camp if anything

and the only one dying was me

don’t get me wrong, i got to see some really amazing creatures on my trip

beautiful ones, interesting ones, mean ones and ones i love

but i can’t stay there, i need sunlight

i need green grass and bare feet and a delightful and fluffy clouded blue sky

i went into the wardrobe and played around in narnia for a minute

and listened to adele

and cried and begged and pleaded to the white witch but she would not here my call

the lion did though

and we ate gazelle together!

yip yip

i can’t stay in the wardrobe any more though

it’s too cold

and i will definately gain weight if i only eat gazelle every day

wise men say, only fools rush in

and i’m a rusher

a pusher

a brat

an elvis lover

but elvis never told priscilla she was overweight or ugly

or not attractive

even though he was having sex with tons of women everywhere

but you know what, that’s elvis

he’s got it like that

and poor Ellie Mae Clampett, who went out with Elvis during the filming of some campy sing songy movie, fell for him

and she never recovered, and was sentenced to a life of playing with animals

because after the king there is now where to go but down

a blue bunny and a bottle of A1 steak sauce, good on snakes, alligators, humans and other lizards

bbbbbzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

a billion white socks

a billion white socks strewn all over the house, one for every sin and more to come, every one matching the other

all white in the bedroom, the only place where there is peace

the door  is always open and the head faces the door, just in case something is coming

if something is coming i should be the first to see it

a billion spots of ink, chiseled in permanently, one for every sin and more to come, everyone at odds with the other

all ink in the biggest surfaces, the only place where there is life

the eyes are always open and the back faces the wall, just in case something is coming

if something is coming it can’t sneak up from behind

a billion words like knives, cut in deep, one for every sin and more to come, each one deeper than the next

all blades shoved in the most tender spots, the only place where there is bleeding

the sharps are collected for safe keeping, just in case nothing is coming

if nothing is coming i will use them on myself

a billion tears like pollen, scattering about, one for every sin and more to come, each loftier than the next

all salty and stinging every slice, the only place where anything is real

the tears are collected for fueling fear, just in case always is never

if always is never it’s too much

a billion too much

nope

hello

hello

which one of us are you talking to?

that all depends i guess on what you have to say because only one of us will be listening

if it’s something good, poppies will listen

clouds will listen

God will listen

love listen

your heart will listen

puke

who wants to listen to that, the other says

let’s get down to business

Did you see the tweaker with the briefcase this morning on his sales call, funny how he was taking his art so professionally

camouflage pants are good with a briefcase in case you have to hide in the bushes

ohhhhh, and you could cause this big war if you wanted to between these two gangs and all the while play innocence and light and then pretend that you are the issue and not the cause

but you are the cause

no i’m not im in the flow stupid

you think you are but we are still here and we are many

so go away

nothing to see here

because you are weak

there could be something happening here, but no, you are too scared, too afraid of reality

cuz i don’t like it duh

i like cartoons and bright colors and flowers and animals and laughing

i don’t like what you are selling

you are selling secrets laughs

cuz they are the best, duh, and you know it

no i don’t, i only laugh because, well, i only laugh because, ummmmmmmmm,  i don’t want you to feel bad

liar

liar back at cha

we both are, do something

no

do something

no

think it or i will claw and scratch and rip your insides out, judge her or i will let them see what you are, make the call, drive the drive, storm the outpost, poke the monkey, do what i say, do what i say, do what i say you dumb bitch

nope

shhhhhhhhhhhh

Pancake Mouse

 The pancake mouse is in the top of the closet

Under the shoe box of pictures from when I was a baby

I forgot about that box

Until now

I’m looking for this paper that says I’m important

I haven’t seen that paper in a long time

And if I show you, maybe you will think I’m important

Or at least think that I was

Once

maybe

I take down the shoe box

I wanna show you a few pictures

Here’s me with pigtails on a bouncing worm

And oh, wait

This is me when I was little with a bad hair cut and in that awful pukey pink dress

It made me itch so bad

But it had jingle bells sewn underneath in the lace

And I still cringe when I here tinkling little jingle bells

The big ones don’t bother me though

I think I wanna buy some and put them on my shoes

But then they will know I’m coming and I won’t be able to hide

Here’s one of me on a mountain

I looked all over that mountain for magic berries

I know they are still up there dang it

I just couldn’t find them

All I found were rocks

And a yellow plastic bag

And here’s a picture I drew

And some unpaid medical bills

And an empty envelope from my mom

And wait

What is this?

Oh, a pancake mouse

I toss it aside, we are similar in that regard,

me and that flatted out squished dead rotten gross decaying pancake mouse

I wonder how long he has been there?

Dead in the place I save the paper that says I‘m important and the pictures that prove I existed?

And why haven’t I ever smelled him?

Without skin

More often than not, the meanest people are afraid of nothing more than the simple truth

It is always that truth that scares us the most

Like if everyone could see on the outside how I thought and what I felt on the inside

What would they think of me

That I am horrible

Judgemental

Evil

Scary

A bitch

And really

I mean if we really get down to it

Mean

In meditation I saw all my skin peeled back from my body

And there were all the defects

All the things that I could finally see wrong

And I had never seen them before

They were ugly

I couldn’t believe it was me

I had a big knife with me and I went about the business of trying hard to cut out the bad parts

To slice them out and throw them away

To feed them like meat to a hungry cat or monitor

But I didn’t wanna poison them

Then I remembered the one lady who sat on the curb and tried to slice her arm off with a meat cleaver

She knew with all her heart that that was where the problem was because her arm was the entrance to the disease

She forgot that it was really the thing that told her to make the entrance in her arm that was the real problem

I can’t cut my brain out

Though I would much love to sometimes

It used to be fun and exciting, but not anymore

Now it is only Not fun and death warranting

Even though I think I could sew my skin back together behind my ears and I think I could do it so well that no one would ever notice that I had removed a few parts of my brain

I just couldn’t do it

You see, im the problem

I always have been the problem

And now I know

And I’m all outta rabbits

No more rabbits in this magicians hat

So now I have to do the work

The work I never did before and do it harder than I ever imagined

Because I’ve gotta get better

I can’t be the “such unfortunate, that is not at fault, because I seem to have been born that way”

Because I am at fault

I accept

I surrender

Little Lambs

Tonight I feasted on a baby lamb

As payment for a story

And though there was no blood involved

The details are quite gory

Scary people find me somehow

And quietly reside

Inside my head

Inside my heart

In places they can hide

A smile of sorts

the simplest trick

For in each smile is light

Mine beams as I swallow bits of lamb

To my taste bud’s delight

I am not weak

Am not a child

And not afraid of youE

So scream and yell and go to hell

Like drama-monsters do

Surrounded by darkness?

That’s the best you’ve got

What are you some goth teen?

Strutting around

Every guttural sound

Makes my lamb taste more lean

But the fat is the flavor

And oh how I savor

Just a chance to point out your defects

God is stronger than you

And is wise and is true

And I am the one he protects

Everyday I grow stronger

The evil ones fade

Into my strength and truth

Into glory

So that always and never

Not even so clever

Will give birth to new lambs and new stories

She sticks to the Cape

She can’t go out with super man

Because she sticks to the cape

 Not that she’d ever want to anyways

 Last time she barely escaped

 She can’t lay down with bat man

 Because she likes to drive

 And the bat cave never felt like home

 She was dead more than alive

 She can’t go for a spin with spider man

 Because she hates the web

 But she’s in it anyway

 And just like today

 There’s no flow, only the ebb

 She can’t be best friends with wolverine

 Because he gives hurty hugs

 And that stabbing pain

 Is from his hands

 she thought it was the drugs

 She can’t go marrying aqua man

 With out an aqua lung

 She can’t hang with teen titans

 Because,

 Well, they’re just too young

 Professor Chaos broke her heart

 Night Crawler’s more her type

 He’ll keep her hidden

 in the dark

 and shielded from the light

Drug Hunting Shoes

When the girl asked me if my shoes were camouflage and if they were for hunting a told her, yeah, they are drug hunting shoes.  and I laughed uncomfortably and looked down at my old friends.  Left and right.  Remembering where they had been and where they had taken me.  And if their soles had eyes they had seen so much more than me when I was passed out in them.  Or curled up in a ball, squeezing my knees tightly to my chest never thinking to take them off.  Or too weak to.  Filthy bottoms from walking through the messes I had made.  Gum spots with grass and sand and glass stuck in it.  When I bought my drug hunting shoes I knew they were perfect

They didn’t fit right at first.  Rubbing against me the wrong way.  Prickly and tight.  Giving me blisters that eventually tore open and bled.  But the new skin that grew back was tough.  And hard.  the drug hunting shoes began to feel better

Comfy like home for Christmas.  Or a big bowl of chili on a cold day.  They kept me warm.  They kept me snug.  Drug hunting shoes moved me swiftly through crowds.  Helped me to stand tall.  Made me laugh at other people.  And kept me alone.  Because I wore them with everything.  No matter if they matched or not.  They were the foundation

They guided my steps.  They became a part of me that I thought I would never take off.  Laced up tight and tied and knotted

I am barefoot now.  I am barefoot and each and every step I take is raw.  And I can feel, for the first time every pebble.  Every thorn, Every puddle.  every lit cigarette I crush accidentally.  It hurts, but I suffer it.  It makes me cry, but I know I’m alive.  It burns, but I acknowledge it.  My bare feet are soft and fragile.  And I paint my toes with black glitter and deep purple

My drug hunting shoes call to me in the night.  Beckoning me to put them on.  And to take one last run

　

　

　

　

Tinkerbell Pajamas

I really can’t stop thinking about the dirty little brown skinned girl in the tinkerbell pj’s I saw at the court house today while I was going through file after file of divorce proceedings for a friend of mine. She was so happy and ignorant of her smell and the dirt that covered the feet of her pajamas. the diaper she was wearing underneath was swollen to capacity but seemed to make her somehow stronger, like she was lifting leg weights or wearing those weird ankle weight circle things that Velcro on. That little girl was happy despite her situation and despite the fact that here mom, also in pajama pants, didn’t even look towards her as she threatened to walk away alone, yelling good-bye. All dirty children are mostly loud, I know I was. He little gold earrings were the sparkle that matched her eyes and she strolled and crawled on the dirty courthouse floor like the cutest puppy, begging for any attention forthcoming from anyone.

 

She was a happy little dirty girl, full of love and joy and light and there was nothing that could snuff that out. Not a dirty diaper, not dirty pajamas, not filthy courtroom floor hands, not the hateful look on her mother’s face directed at her for having to stand in line to request child support from the guy who knocked her up and left her, nothing. I must admit I was jealous of her happiness.all the while knowing that she would probably be pregnant before she turned 15 and that her mom, pregnant and disgusted with her life situation would probably never love her as much as she loved her own body before it was stretch marked and sagging from the little girl’s birth. I wish I knew her name, I wish I could have smiled at her and given her a piece of juicy fruit but she left before I had the chance. I pray she will grow up to be remarkable.