Night Swings

I remember you

Do you remember me?

Am I a sweet nothing,

The background music

In your small town dreams?

Can you feel the shadows and images?

Can you hear the footsteps

Of reckless youth?

Was a midnight walk in the park

Enough to form a bond?

Did you love me the way that I loved you?

And when I sleep

I am dreaming of those Night Swings

I am grasping for those moments of simplicity

All it took to get high was the movement of my feet

And the feeling of you by my side

Laughing like lunatics

In this moment of pure escape

What would you say?

If I whispered

That I miss

Moments that we never had

How would you respond if you knew

It was you

That I looked for when things turned bad

And the song in my ears

Was your voice

Arguing with me

In a verbal war never to be won

Because I am not the kind to give up

And I am not the only one

Maybe in another lifetime

The wanderlust will not possess me

And I will stay in the place where I find you

And we will remain upon the Night Swings

So I write these words

A letter to my past

For every friend who loved me then

For every night that could never last

To each and everyone

I owe a debt of gratitude

For these moments

Of innocent freedom

That defy the concept of value

Just know, that when you think of

These beautiful and fleeting things

If you think of me

You can find me on the Night Swings

She

I have seen her falter where I thought she would succeed

I have seen her become stubborn

With a will like stone

When I had hoped

That she would bend

She is so mercurial

So unpredictable

Like the wind

Like the water

She is a summer storm

Only more uncontrollable

I say this even when

I call myself mercurial

She is a contradiction

Dark but sheltered

Brave but fearful

Rebellious but polite

I say this when

I call myself a contradiction

She wins

Which would suit her

Because she is sometimes

Needlessly competitive

She is a lovely mess

So am I

I wonder if

She will read this

And become angry or upset

Not realizing that

Although I see her flaws she is loved

Because we cannot hope

To hide our imperfections from the world

Whether someone sees one or many

They are seen

All that we can hope

Is that we will meet people

Who will see our defects

And still think we are

Worthy of their loyalty and love

A poem entitled The Memory of Innocence

The Memory of Innocence

When I was small

I received a china doll

I cried when I saw her glass eyes

I rejoiced when I held her

She was mine

I carried her around

As if she was not a fragile thing

She held a music box within her

And I would listen to her sing

As years went past her ceramic feet

Would smash together

And chip and break piece by piece

I repaired them like a medic with a child’s skills

With splints and tape

And the strength of youth’s will

Then came the day

When someone shattered her face

I shrieked and cried but to no avail

Her beauty was gone

And my heart began to pale

My memory of her magenta dress would fade

And rarely did I think of her until this day

I loved her even though she was no longer

The friend I once knew

I loved her even though she broke my soul

I loved her even though with her death

The last vestige of my innocence left

Memory is a strange thing

Because so often what let’s us grow up is pain

It is loss

It is mortality

But deep inside a child

Lives eternally

It holds the doll dearly with its fractured face

Because in a child’s heart

Love can never be replaced

A poem entitled Farewell

Farewell

 

A million seconds

A single moment

Graceful black eyes

That have become dark, murky pools

I gazed at you

And I knew no bounds

You changed your image

Ignoring the despair in my eyes

Heartless

You have become frozen

Neither tortured nor desperate

You have become transparent

Wraith like in your superficial world

You have lost your shadow

Its delusions on your lips

And emptiness on your mind

Do you dare sleep beside the traitor you have become?

Give me a reason

Do not let me forget what it was to love you

Sacrifice yourself respect

On the altar of acceptance

Burn incense to mask the scent of your treachery

Give into mass request

And when dreams of midnight past

Disappear behind your eyes

Will you mourn?

Do not shed a tear for me

Instead let your lamentations fall on your own deaf ears

A short story entitled The Drowning of 13

The Drowning of 13

I knew what was coming and in some way maybe she did too. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t find her at first. She had always been fleeting and mercurial an ethereal creature of light and shadows. 13 was the first to arise and the first to fall and sadly she was never the phoenix I thought she might be. She became a screaming creature of ash, pallid and terrified. She knows these dim halls better than I do and although I chase her footsteps she seems to out fox me at every turn. So many doors here. So many keys to be found. I sigh and it is as if the foundation of this place exhales with me. It is a lonely sound. I let myself stop for a moment, here I let myself rest sitting on the ground then I leaned against a door and it opened.

I stood up and peered inside but my eyes only met darkness. Could she be in there? She could be anywhere. I opened the door and it squeaked on its hinges as if it had not been opened in a long time. I looked behind me but suddenly I was no longer in some strange dark room I was in a post card from the past staring at a girl with eyes so dark, eyes that had already seen so much but still held so much promise. I was looking at 13. I didn’t want to be. I had no urge to see her for longer than I had to, I didn’t want to understand I just wanted to get this over with. But 13’s will was not easily overcome and as I said in some ways this place was more hers than mine.

The 13 of the past laughs and I see in front of her an older boy. I remember him, but his name is just out of reach. His hair is naturally red, blonde, and brown flowing together beautifully. In 13’s hand there is a worn out ball cap, he tries to snatch it from her but she’s too quick. Instead she grabs his shirt and brings him close to her. Their lips barely touch in a chaste kiss and then she frees him from her grip and runs away laughing. Then everything becomes dark and dusty again and the place where I stand is just a room, a dark and forgotten room. I look around my eyes trying to adjust to the lack of light. I search trying to catch any sign of her but there is none. “13 if you can hear me. Just be still. Please. Just be still.” I rub my hands together. Has this place become colder or do I simply feel the chill within myself?

Back in the hallways, back in the twisting ever changing hallways I stand. I look at the labyrinth before me and feel tired but I carry on. That is what I do after all. Unlike 13, I carry on. Always finding the next moment, always letting the nightmares come and the demons speak but still I carry on. If only I could find her, if only I could find silence. I heard footsteps and the chase begins again.

I ran. My breathing was heavy; my chest was beginning to burn. Still she eluded me, and these halls seemed to change as I ran through them. I thought it was just a trick of my tired eyes until out of nowhere a wall appeared before me and it was too late to stop. I ran into it barely able to brace myself, I bit my lip and fell to the ground. Shaking my dazed head I looked again and a door had appeared it was the color of blood, a sick claret too close to the color of blood. To say I was not thrilled to follow her through this door was an understatement. But she lured me, I could feel her in that room, I could hear her breathing. I wiped the blood from my mouth and took a deep breath. This time when I opened the door it made no noise, someone had been coming to this room and very often.

Again I was met with only darkness; I waited for the light that would show me the next scene that 13 had forcing upon me but that light never came. I heard a frightened sound, but I could not find its source, it seemed to come from nowhere, and everywhere. I shook my head, “Forget it” I thought. I was leaving I could find her some other way. But I was frozen in place, whether that was 13’s doing or mine I will never know. I only know that suddenly I was with her, I was almost inside of her as I felt the sensation of weight upon me. There was a horrible smell of sweat and fear. Then there was movement, unspeakable movement and a scream that never escaped 13’s terrified lips. Then thankfully just as suddenly as it had appeared it was gone. I stood in the empty room feeling sick, feeling scared. I was also managing to feel both pity and hatred for 13. “She should have screamed.” I thought to myself. She should have run. But she was so frightened, like a rabbit caught by the light she was frozen. Did I dare blame her? Did I dare judge her? I turned and threw up, unable to control the sickness within me, what did it matter? After all this room was filth, nothing but filth. Oh 13 why did you bring me here? No, these were questions for another time. Across the room another door opened a door that was that indigo of twilight and with the chill growing deeper inside of me I stepped through.

The room was dim but I could see 13, her hair unkempt, her sleeves pulled up, a razor in her hand. I knew what was coming I looked away. She laughed and it was such a sad sound  “Will you really look away like everyone else did?” I turned and I looked at her as blood was dripping down to her fingertips falling like macabre raindrops. I looked at my own arm and the tattoo there, the angel’s wing, the symbol that protects me now. She looked into my eyes. “I never made it that far. Should I apologize?” “No 13 I whispered no.” “One more,” She said and she was gone. I looked around and suddenly realized that I was trapped she had left no door for me to enter or exit. I stared around stupidly unsure of what to do next, and at that moment the floor beneath me collapsed and I fell, and I fell, and I fell.

As I fell I saw faces twisted by hatred anger. My siblings, my father crying tears of blood, each one their eyes closed refusing to look at me. Such pain grew in my heart, such pity, such empathy and the memory of the times that I had closed my eyes and cried those tears.

I reached the bottom with a soft thud and I groaned at the scene I saw before me. “13 why are you doing this? What’s the point?” She turned and looked at me and there was fire in her eyes. I knew that once again I had no choice. Her world. How I hated her world. I was in a plain room the walls were a dirty white the floor the same color. There was a rocking chair in the middle of the room. A rocking chair that I knew well. Sitting in that rocking chair was a mother thing. A thing that had birthed children and then left them in the darkness. Not a mother, a mother thing. 13 stood before it, her sleeves still pulled high, the blood now drying to a dark maroon. “I have nothing!” She screamed at the mother thing. She held her bloody hands out to it. “I have nothing.” Her voice was becoming wet with tears. “Why don’t you care?!” She screamed.”There is death inside if me and I am terrified.” The mother thing did not respond. 13 slapped her and still nothing. She fell to her knees and began to sob. I had never heard such pain before, such loneliness. And then we fell. But this time it was softly and there were no haunting pictures. We landed softly into a grey room. “Your favorite color.” 13 said. “The color of fog and rainy days, the color of the softness of your first kiss.” I went to her and placed my hand on her shoulder. Words escaped me. “Look.” She said. A pool had appeared in the middle of the room. Her dark eyes met mine. “Did you think I was stupid? No one has ever mistaken me for stupid before.” I gently stroked her hair, “No I don’t think you’re stupid.” I lifted her then. She weighed nothing; it was like carrying a ghost. I brought her to the pool and stepped into it with her. I laid her gently in the water. My tears fell onto her face and mixed with hers, I wiped them away. “I love you, you know. I always have.” “I know,” she replied. “I love you too. You grew up.” She raised her hand and touched my face. “And you are beautiful.” Still crying I said the only thing I could “I’m sorry.” She looked into my eyes. ‘I know.” She said and I lowered her into the water. She struggled only for a moment and then she was still. She was finally still. “I’m sorry.” I said again to a girl who couldn’t hear me. And then it was over

A poem entitled Have Fun!

Have Fun!

In lots of different and strange situations

Where the phrase would not often be used

I say to my friends

Have fun!

In fact I do it so much

That I have found myself doing it at times

That even I found inappropriate

My brother says to me:

I have to go get chemotherapy now.

My response:

Have fun!

They laugh because they think I am being weird and sarcastic

I laugh too

Because I know I am not

I was raised to believe

Well, to be fair I was raised to believe a lot of things

Most of them were quickly left beside the road

Like the rubbish that they were

But one of the few that I kept with me

Was that

Anything, anything at all

Can be a game

Is your friend’s intervention heartbreaking?

I bet it is funnier if you show up drunk

Is church getting you down because they say that you are going to hell?

Wander around looking and then claim to find Jesus

Only to begin weeping loudly when they explain

That that is only a painting

Jealous of your friend who is getting married?

Show up before she does to the wedding

And insist that she asked you to take her place

At the alter

Are you going to the hell on Earth that is the DMV?

Set an entire day aside

Give yourself points every time you get into the wrong line

Or behave badly and get sent to the back

High five people around you every time you get points

The next morning give your point card to another person

Dare them to beat your high score

Depressed that you have to go to a friend’s funeral?

Honor them by dressing as the grim reaper

Stand there silently

Do not respond when asked to leave

At the very least

When you accidentally do something stupid

Do not say “oops”

Yell “Yay!”

That way you will feel like you planned it

And that you have now accomplished something

I could interject a lot of philosophy here

About living life to its fullest

Making every moment shine because we do not know how many we have left

But before I started to write this

I thought to myself

Have fun!

So instead I am going to think about you

Because as irreverent as my suggestions are

They will make you laugh

The way that you always make me laugh too

And I appreciate that

Poetry at its best is used to create

Emotions

Today I will make many people shake their heads

But I will make you smile

What a wonderful creation

A poem entitled The Inner Circle: Where inside jokes that other people won’t get live

The Inner Circle: Where inside jokes that other people won’t get live

An Ode to Cid

The outer level of inner circle is where most people end their journey

Be it the way of the world, lack of trust, or treachery

Sometimes friendship crashes into enemy

Especially when you make the unfortunate decision

To not present a shrubbery

And God forbid

If when you did

There was not a mongoose within

You will be ejected

Neglected

And the journey would end

But provide the objects of honor and say the words of power

Beware memorization for they change twice an hour

If you can do those things then begins the true quest

To cautiously become a friend you must complete the test

It is not standardized, multiple choice, or essay form

You can try those things

Including answering favorite color and name

But the test is on the curve of loyalty

And ability to weather the storm

Of chaos that is friendship

And I don’t always have to be cleverness and quip

WAFFLES!

Friends love you

Even if all you have to say are breakfast foods

And you can be a genius that fails at the simple things

It matters not to me

In fact I will like you better for your flawed abilities

I mock you, you mock me

You maim my puppet but no hard feelings

(No, Jack I said no hard feelings.

You do not hate him!

Yes, I will get you a peg leg

Yes, for your forgiveness I am sure he will beg

Now can I get back to writing this?

Thank you

Yes, you can a have a cuddle and a kiss… from Cid)

See? Because sometimes friendship is defined by its difficulty

In fact, a cult, is a good way to think

Of that feeling you get when your friend won’t go away

When they are taunting you with puns on your worst day

And your are in no mood for silliness and word play

That is until you think of one of your own

Then the game begins and never ends

And you remember that friendship is home

Deities bless the inner circle

Where so few of us reside

But with tentativeness and an asterisk bless

I will ask this

Will you let me in yours if I let you in mine?