I am an artist.
I can make myself into something new
Imagine the possibilities you could
Just let me know what you want.
Here, flip through this magazine for some
And tell me what you like best!
It’s all about pleasing your audience
It doesn't matter what I want,
Nobody cares about that.
They just want to see something pretty.
I sculpt and paint imagery out of tools
To end up with a fake canvas.
Day to day I suppress myself with the lies.
I chip and chisel,
Dissect and carve,
Bits and pieces,
Until I’m left trembling,
Just to be tossed away in the end.
Splashes of red,
And strokes of black ignite your appeal,
And this is what you label as real?
Hunger strikes itself through the bones
Revealing its power through the limbs
Of the body, eye sockets, sinking down,
Death could possibly be the resemblance.
What a terrible piece, a shame it is.
Maybe just a few more tweaks,
And it will at least look halfway decent.
Trim down the sides,
Thin out any extras,
Fill in what is needed.
Even just a tad more color,
Then we have something.
Time strolls by,
A year soon passes,
And one day I just happen to actually
And look at my masterpiece,
But only for a moment.
In the mirror,
A reflection stares back at a wretched,
Beads of liquid build up into my pallid
Unable to contain the weight of their
reasons any longer,
Tears begin to burst,
They trickle down my rose stained
Fueled by the absence of perfection,
And I feel nothing.
Needs more work.
He thinks my first name is Sarah Jay
he says it's so pretty the way it rolls off the tip of his tongue
and it reminds him of flowers coming up through piles of snow
He says my lips remind him of space itself
because every time he presses into them
his eyes seem to close
and he's left with comets and Jupiter and Pluto and stars
he's left with a feeling like all that baggage he carries is nothing
He thinks I see the same thing as he
Really I just see black blemishes and red spots
I see memories that should've already been forgotten
He says his home is in the nape of my neck
and if it were possible for a person to shrink to microscopic size,
he'd camp in the crevices of my collar bones,
he'd cut out a house in my jugular
he said It would be an honor to drown in my blood
I'd like to tell him he'd suffocate with smoke
He thinks the gold strands at my roots aren't real noticeable
He wants to see what I looked like before I went Jet
He says when I sing it puts him in a trance
he forgets the cigarette burns his father applied to chairs
he forgets his mother returning at strange hours reeking of sex and Johnny
he forgets that he's even alive
He thinks I don't smoke
He thinks I could really make it somewhere
But you can't make it somewhere when you are living a lie.
The car glides through the night,
The gentle roll between rubber and tarmac
Just inches beneath my feet,
And as each lamp post casts its amber
Gaze upon me through the fogged up window,
I begin to wonder how they stand there,
And yet they still shine bright,
Throwing a luminescent sublimity
For hundreds of wandering souls
To find their way home,
To trace the tarmac veins of the city
Until they are nestled in the brick red hearts
of their homes,
And I sit here, a freight train of abnormally large
Thoughts passing through my fatigued and stretched mind
Whilst I am drifting under these street lights,
When I could be curled up in bed,
Sleeping through blissful dreams or stormy nightmares,
Eyes closed until another dawn spills over the horizon,
But then it occurred to me,
I am a creature of the night.
She gently closed her eyes and guided his hand up her thigh
Holding her breath
Trying to block out the part that comes next
Was she doing this out of anger
In spite of someone
Her father perhaps
Or was it genuine
Because sluts just enjoy the name calling
They look forward to guys ignoring them once they've had their fun
It couldn't be
She wanted to prove something
That she was independent
That she was all grown up now
And her father had missed his chance
Being over protective was no longer an option
There was nothing left to protect
She had been touched
She had been hurt
She had been alone
He wasn't there for any of that
It drove her mad
So if she gently closed her eyes and guided his hand up her thigh
And blocked out the part that came next
She would have just a few minutes go by
Without the thought of what she could have been
If he had been there
Just a few minutes of relief
Finding the truth is hard
Observing the decoy is impossible
Returning to reality is difficult
My life can be confusing as
Your life right now, my friend
Fighting all alone at the last
Remaining battle field
Interrupting the peace but
Ending all the greed
Nothing feels so much better than
Doing good things for people
Knowing the truth hurts
Allowing it to devour you
Tells you how much you've learned
Everything is always meant to happen
It fills my ears like liquid goal.
I take a breath to stop the need of unspoken remity.
The strokes of the lost voilen rythems the beats of my heart; the easy rhyme of the piano mocks my soul.
To not jump and leap would be to unfoster a child, an action that I take for granted.
My heart calls out for the music set before me.
The rythem takes me away, as I loose hope.
Easing my Pain and anger, I take it.
Dance. My mind tells me as I harness the music of a loss child.
Bowing, leaping, gliding.
Letting the fluid of the strokes take my body prisoner.
The world becomes a wirle of colors.
Fire. Water. Earth.
All dancing with perfect rythem with my soul and heart.
So beautiful, it makes a grown man cry.
Violen, Chelo, Piano.
All screaming at me to fly.
So I obey.
Happiness fades to sadness,
Just as the sun fades to dark.
Alone and cold
I feel agony, hopelessness, despair.
My world that was once filled with sunshine
Is now pitch black.
The peace and serenity
Is now anger and frustration.
The love and caring
Is now hatred and bitterness.
But just as the sun fades to dark,
The dark fades to light.
And the cycle repeats itself
© Fully Copyrighted, all rights reserved. Rebekah Fleck.