Daisy, she was a sinking ship. I remember when she jumped out of my 2nd story window. Little miss Daisy. We went to school together for as long as I can remember, but the only thing she learned was how to fall, such a difficult girl, always pressed against the wall. She hated labels pasted on her clothes sometimes using her teeth to tear the tags off. No one ever told me she’d be such a heartbreak, she’d leave such a bad taste. Daisy, she was a sinking ship that I could've saved.
I seen Daisy last month, she was sleeping in bus shelter down by the expressway. All dressed up in the latest fashions, ripped and torn, sporting nicotine stains on her finger tips. With her hood pulled tight she folded her body in half and nestled on that little wooden bench. Empty bottles and discarded fast food wrappers strewed along the ground, clearly she’s made camp here for some time.
Daisy, she’s been a sinking stone since I could remember. Always a bright girl but always ashamed, always changing but never the same. It’s been nearly two weeks now since I saw her last , sleeping so pitifully, hiding behind the glass. All she’s ever needed was somebody to lean on, all she’s ever needed was a clear mind. Maybe next time I'll stop, maybe next time I’ll offer her a ride?
Driving one night I pulled alongside the bus stop and scanned the grounds, my little miss Daisy is no where to be found. There was something about that ride, seeing that place from where once she slept. The thought of spending one night out of the comfort of my home sent a shiver through my chest. I often wondered how I would react if she came to my door step.
It’s been a few days and the snow is blowing cold, making even the most mundane errands feel like journeys into the unknown. I was running low on the necessities in life, but something told me not to go. I didn’t need to have a drink, I didn’t need to leave my home.
It’s January and I can see my breath, exhaling, my lungs quiver from the cold. It’s been snowing again and there’s ice on the road. Maybe I shouldn’t had that last quart, maybe I should’ve stayed home. I’ve been drinking heavier, I’ve been getting stoned, I’ve been trying to fight the guilt slowing consuming my soul. It’s getting late and my heater is fading again, fogging up my windows. I pray for a red light so I may wipe the condensation from my windshield.
As I pulled along the curb and hastily begun to park, an unsettling feeling fell across my heart. I stepped out of my car, placing both feet on the ground. I make my way to the doorstep carefully minding the snow falling hard and collecting in piles. I slip my key out of my pocket and search for the keyhole, but something catches my eye in the bitter cold.
A body nesting calmly in the bushes outside my home. A form so familiar, one that I’d surely know. Startled, with panic rising, I'd already know, there’s Daisy laying on the ground dead in the cold. Her lifeless body slumped up against the bushes, all the tags torn from her clothes. Daisy, she was a sinking ship, Daisy, I shouldn’t have left my home.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
8: or simple ways
I expect you know all the answers, I expect you have your cares, I expect you know all the rules, in life nothings fair. I suspect you plan your maneuvers, I suspect you plan your days. Although you’re rebellious by nature, I suspect you know my ways. With honor and by truth you long for all simple shades, to cover your body and illuminate the darkness at bay. As the tide draws near, and the suns packed away, you can still feel the warmth from the sun the previous day.
7: or how I spent my Earth Day
I walked through the door and casually slipped my jacket off, making eye contact with the one person I’ve yet to know. I make small talk with my friends, “how’s it going, where’s life taken you” all the while keeping a safe but comfortable distance. I’ll play this one safe, like a wining hand I’ve yet to be dealt. I talk loud, and I’m rude spewing things from my mouth you know to be untrue. I exaggerate, conjuring up a good line, throw all my spoiled bait all the while keeping taut my line.
Play this one smooth, she’s got a spark in her eye, play this one through, her smile doesn’t lie. She laughs at your swagger, all your whistles and bells, she smiles at your awkward way you carry yourself. But you’re smooth today, like the silk scarf she hides, the one tucked away in her drawer, the one she’s too embarrasses to share.
She has a soft smile, one that knows pain, but her laugh reveals that she knows the game. This one’s different, you’ll play it safe, make her smile enough so she’ll remember your name. Write this to her, she likes to read, write this down in hopes that she’ll see. She seems like to type whom would study the rules of play, before she makes her move, and take the game.
Play this one smooth, she’s got a spark in her eye, play this one through, her smile doesn’t lie. She laughs at your swagger, all your whistles and bells, she smiles at your awkward way you carry yourself. But you’re smooth today, like the silk scarf she hides, the one tucked away in her drawer, the one she’s too embarrasses to share.
She has a soft smile, one that knows pain, but her laugh reveals that she knows the game. This one’s different, you’ll play it safe, make her smile enough so she’ll remember your name. Write this to her, she likes to read, write this down in hopes that she’ll see. She seems like to type whom would study the rules of play, before she makes her move, and take the game.
6: or A Walk With a Friend
It’s midway through April and I can see my breath, try as I may I can’t seem to rid the cold from my skin. It’s rather late in the evening and I’m rather late coming come. Ten minutes I’d say aloud 6 hours ago, ten minutes I’d say, then I’ll wander off and down the way. I’ve never really understood the concept of time. Time, be on it or lose everything, time, spend it wisely or regret it, time. I can never find anything to do with it so all I ever do is waste it, good ole time.
The rain’s pretty heavy tonight, big drops, wet drops, the kind that seep down to the bottom of your feet, adding weight, pressure, miles. Each step gets heavier, and heavier, slower I walk, through the rain, midway through April. I’m nearly there now, home, and in my wake is a raging hunger and mind-blowing headache. It’s midway through April and I’m not wearing shoes, it’s wet and I lost my sandal somewhere between here and the state line. Oh sandals, how you were supposed to be kind. I was never a designer of great ingenuity, I never discovered a cure, saved the world from hunger, but I thought I knew how to at least walk in sandals.
The rain came down, it was like god himself was pissing on me, I’ve never felt so alone. I decided to run, flee, save myself from the holiest of golden showers. As come up my block, my neighborhood, my place, I slipped. Now there’s pain, and cold, and loneliness. Ten minutes I said, ten minutes. I didn’t think a walk would become such punishment.
I pick myself from the cold wet ground, I don’t even dust myself off, the rain will settle me. I continue to walk, holding my head high, despite the thick, drenching water pouring from the sky. I’m nearly there, just feet from the door, I’m nearly home, safe and warm. As I reach out my hand, and grip the doorknob a cold rush, a shiver, a pang of fear. Shaking, cold and wet, midway through April, standing in the rain that will soon kill me, I realize, I forgot my keys inside.
The rain’s pretty heavy tonight, big drops, wet drops, the kind that seep down to the bottom of your feet, adding weight, pressure, miles. Each step gets heavier, and heavier, slower I walk, through the rain, midway through April. I’m nearly there now, home, and in my wake is a raging hunger and mind-blowing headache. It’s midway through April and I’m not wearing shoes, it’s wet and I lost my sandal somewhere between here and the state line. Oh sandals, how you were supposed to be kind. I was never a designer of great ingenuity, I never discovered a cure, saved the world from hunger, but I thought I knew how to at least walk in sandals.
The rain came down, it was like god himself was pissing on me, I’ve never felt so alone. I decided to run, flee, save myself from the holiest of golden showers. As come up my block, my neighborhood, my place, I slipped. Now there’s pain, and cold, and loneliness. Ten minutes I said, ten minutes. I didn’t think a walk would become such punishment.
I pick myself from the cold wet ground, I don’t even dust myself off, the rain will settle me. I continue to walk, holding my head high, despite the thick, drenching water pouring from the sky. I’m nearly there, just feet from the door, I’m nearly home, safe and warm. As I reach out my hand, and grip the doorknob a cold rush, a shiver, a pang of fear. Shaking, cold and wet, midway through April, standing in the rain that will soon kill me, I realize, I forgot my keys inside.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
5
Four lines read inside me today, I’ll say the same things heard through. Into a dream driven by lust I’ll shake myself clean of the living dust. It covers me from head to toe as I close my eyes and lose my hold. I can feel you undressing inches from my feet and welcome your warmth from a cold day. I can feel my heart searching for the rhythm and explain your woes of the way. I can feel your mind wrapping tightly around my waist consuming the surface of my skin. I can feel your body welcoming me in.
4
It’s a habit to father, the need to teach that seems to follow me around all week. I love to discover new ways home while I walk from the park, or relating to a line I read from your book. To see an interesting point under charismatic light, but to remain ignorant to the world set before my eyes. I dig out opinions, and keep the ones I choose, recognizing the others in the dirt and continue through. I love to listen to the questions that project from you, and pretend to know the answer that you assume I knew. This is factual, based on opinions from who? Streaming consciousness from my finger tip to help educate you. Although I am locked in adolescences still learning to strew, my own ways home from long nights aloof.
3
You shift the heat, to better soothe my needs, sometimes selfishness is the best way to please. You bury me deep feeling the ache in your knees, in the wake comes the tide soothing me. The flood travels quick drenching, as I feel the wave beneath carrying me.
2
You’ve been speaking too loud, the others may hear, in regards to the walls too thin, you have to hide your fears. So aware of the choice, the chance that must be spared, to cease the privilege, you’ve searched to obtain for years.
1
It doesn’t hurt to lend a hand, it just never comes back the same. Pick the grit out from under your nails, your hands work someone else’s wage. You’re certainly faced with the obvious, but can’t remember how to spell, the words that would’ve altered, any chance to prevail.
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