"You came," her voice floated in the white
"Of course I came," I knew she was behind me
But I couldn't turn, only feel her hair touching my back
"It's a good sign." Her voice was a million echoing silver bells
"I guess I've started to realize..."
Her fingertips brushed my palm, light as wind.
"I have realized that it wasn't my fault"
"I told you it was a good sign"
In the corner of my eye, I saw strands of her hair, fluttering
"I miss you." I wanted see her, see her smile, white teeth and dimple
"I miss you too," her silver bell voice rung out sadly
"I can never forgive myself," my voice shook, my eyes burned
"Don't say that, it's not true"
Flowers underneath us were red, yellow and sky blue
"I should have been there, I should have always been with you"
My every atom ached for her, to turn and see her
I could remember the smell of waking up beside her
Starting my day with a wonder by my side
"Forgive yourself please, for me"
A flower was slipped into my hand, it was yellow
I turned and I saw her, she wore the garb of an angel
She smiled before she disappeared
Leaving me crying in the red, yellow and sky blue.
I'm sitting here on the couch
Mug in hand, spliff in mouth
And I think to myself,
"things are good".
Things aren't great,
but things aren't bad.
There is no real reason
Why I should be sad.
Though I haven't a penny,
Nickle or dime
I have a roof and a cat
Who's getting a touch fat
So why the hell am I crying?
I have a passion, a drive
That's been left unfulfilled
And I want to, so badly
To sit here and stagnate
To 'moss' if you like
Leaves me wanting
I don't, I'm polite.
My neighbours are people
With problems like me
From doubting their life
To forgetting the key.
So I'll be quiet
And I'll not make a sound
I'll watch a funny video
And I'll eventually come 'round.
Though, the future scares me
It brings many things:
From ups to downs,
Smiles to frowns,
From terrifying clowns,
To nights out on the town,
And hopefully, plenty of asses
That are gorgeously round.
So I've got to rally
Be in good form
They say it gets better
Or it is always wetter
Before the eye of the storm.
I knew Pearl, comely, calm Pearl
eyes as blue as the skies
that warmed her sands
where we walked and talked
dreamed the days away
her voice so sweet on the Pacific winds
it made me forget about home
I was breaking daily bread
dipping it in the
yellow yolk promise of eggs
when little gunner Joe
said come down below
to see the kitty he found
crouched in the shadowed corner
no bigger than the rivets
get her some milk he said
when we placed the offering in front of her
she roared a lion’s roar…
and the roar kept coming
and the young living
disappeared into the darkness...
the stench of smoke
the screeching screams
the fierce rocking of the hull
which came too fast to touch
all spoke with equal madness
telling us doom
can come on a sunny Sunday morn
in Pearl’s land
is something we all know
in the flat land of dreams
in the lucky light of day, and
on that Sunday morn,
in the boiling bowels of our ship
with some giant hand in command
the water, the water,
the water we all had grown to love
now taunting our feet,
then our knees
the pounding began
the eternal pounding
the pounding of the hopeful
in Pearl’s blue skies
and our pounding,
the pounding of the damned,
without any eyes
now at our waists
now at our chests
and then only our frozen faces
against the hard steel that had been our home
had the last few breaths of air to breathe
heard the last few gasps of desperation
and the feeble futile pounding
of those in Pearl’s darkened sun…
now we rest in this sunken tomb
the guests roaming above
with cameras and tearless eyes
for they were not
the ones who heard our cries
those who did, do not return
for Pearl is no longer a sunny beach
and a stroll in a dream
but a place where the pounding started
and never stopped
and where the world changed forever
when the first bomb was dropped
You will always follow me
Like melting canyon walls
Grown of glass
Forever folding inward
At my back.
In my mind;
Even when the rain clears up
You still stir
Your whitened waters.
Where heat still settles
In only the South
The sun stole every sip
Slurped up every drop
From every pore
In my thinned body.
You almost killed me.
I suppose-Even then-You tried
To save me
Hives across my body:
Holding aquifer pockets of your own blood.
You tried to warn me
With swollen, itchy
My fingers burned,
But I went to sleep.
Awakened with delusion
You kicked at the curve
Of my knee
With only pain running through my bedrock veins.
You left me,
With white running down my face.
You showed me how much mama loves me
Bent over my body
With her own salty piece of you
Falling in my face.
I could no longer hold you
No matter how much I longed to.
Mama took me to you.
Again, like glass on a November morning you sent ice through my blue and back to my heart.
Until you brought me conscious.
Twice mama had taken me to you
And on the first I'd fallen in love.
Hooked to an EKG
They pulled tubes of my blood from body
My eyes rolled back to when we met;
Weakened, I held only a blurred memory
Of three years ago
When you carried me over your muddied body,
Still with softened white ripples,
And warmed- no matter how far upstream- by July.
It was there
Touching the silk of your skin
With sun on my chest
And life at my back
That I promised
I'd loved you.
I leave my almost daydream.
In my double vision
I see eight
With four pairs of scrubs
One set black
Then Navy blue.
You sink back into my filtered memory
Holding tight subconsciously.
An IV now in my right arm
I ask what you are.
Moms hand comes off my back
I've stopped sweating
She leads-You led
My head back
I wait an hour
The shivers subside
Color comes comes back
My head falls to the right
I watch you drip
As I drift.
I awaken then
The objects in front of me now follow in suit with my eyes
Their image no longer drags behind them
The way things do with five drinks on a bar stool.
I look to momma
Beside me and at my foot.
I drop my head to the right again
To see your slow drip;
I never knew how much I needed you
In my mechanical bed
With my mama clutching my hand
And you clutching my arm.
It was then that I gave you my second promise;
I was going to save you too.
Hold my hand
So they can see
Make a stand
Together well be
Let them see
The look in our eyes
See the real me
I'm done living lies
They think I like boys
But what a surprise
Men are just toys
And you are my prize
You are my girl
It makes me feel good
This is for real
Just like it should
this little girl made a great big wish
to fill the world with happiness
and she was delighted
when anyone smiled
she'd place hand to lips
and feel their mouth twist
and give her own gap-toothed grin in the moment
some eyes showed pity
some even wept
with their talker upturned
but those little fingers
only registered joy
for that little girl was blind
I see a door,
not closing like before,
opening with grandeur and grace,
inside a beautiful place,
that I have seen a million times but never laid my eyes on it,
so I wait and sit,
surrounded by black,
till a hand reaches oot and gives my face a smack,
"we are all waiting and you keep us hung up like you always do,"
a warm touch on my now red cheek,
its my Naru and she's smiling bright,
begging me to come into the warm light,
I take the steps to go through the doorway,
a perfect end to a tragic play,
everyone I see is smiling at me,
with drinks and cigarettes that dont kill,
this is my death, my thrill,
"do you believe in an afterlife?"
I believe in a door opening to the loves of my life.
My thumb is cocked
And I'm point to kill
It's a sure fire thrill
The way baby doll's hand
streaks across from sky to heart
And in a twirl
She's blown apart
K.C. runs rampant the field
Paddles rubbed and charged
and with a shock
And with a tickle
the act restarts
Now its baby doll's turn
She's a bounty hunter
Best in the west
And a sure fire killer
Shot in the back
K.C falls to floor
Till baby doll shocks
His heart to a start
My castigation was decided long before my backslide. And that is inexcusable, the righteous might declare "unfair". But I don't want any belligerent accusations against this 'unjust watchfulness' from above. Some entity must have understood that I didn't need guidance; I needed walls: some forcing to reach my destiny. Without my jailer, I'd have chosen one of three and let them lead me into a darkness that the pitiful call 'demons'. Claws and teeth? No, each monster was irreplaceable and I loved them. If possible, if they could comprehend a 'love', I vow they would have loved me. But the Warden took them: my punishment before my crime. Perhaps the disposal of these beasts seems considerate, but toss aside those foolish illusions because the burden has not lessened rather, it is unfamiliar. Omitting strength, for I lost my foundation, I stand in fear with this hole. The Three aren't returning; I'm left with loose bindings - the knots are the songs of my memories. Beautiful Terrors, do I need you? Let me tell you their stories.
I remember his voice calling for me. "Daisy! Flowers for you." It was our little game, and I'm sure he made girls jealous when he handed me a bouquet of roses.
My name was Petunia, but I hated that name, and I loved all that's yellow.
So when we were little he took my hand, and we went into a treefort, and he dubbed me Lady Daisy.
He was 7 and I was 4, and there began my adoration.
Then I was older and heartbroken, and I was calling him. "Waldon! It's hurting me."
He arrived so soon, I was still in hysteria - that of a 14 year old gone through breakup.
Then I cried harder because somehow my brother presented me with a tulip and declared, "It's an early present from the only boy who's going to love you more than I do."
17, and I understood fascination. And Willow (for though it's girly, I liked it more than Waldon, and he let it be) was entranced by a wild girl. She was a shockbomb - a warm sungirl that rocked stilettos and never littered nor waited past a minute.
He fell for her so hard from so high.
One day that girl kissed him straight on the lips, then jetted off to England.
Said he could follow her in spirit.
I couldn't hate her because she left his body, but it was hard to appreciate his body when the government took even that away, insisting he be laid beneath cold dirt. Then too many questions: "Why did you hold his hand for three days? Were you thinking of following? Petunia, why won't you buy flowers for the gravestone?" Then there were horrified eyes when I asked who Petunia was, because I had forgotten. Or, truthfully, there was no Petunia, only Daisy. And Daisy had Willow. The Flower and the Tree: that was supposed to be the story. So I refused to buy flowers, and without any sort of ceremony I stopped being 'Lady' and became 'Crazy Daisy', who talked to her demons. Now you see why I never wanted to part with Number One, because although he was a monster (you can't deny the terror of a body with no spirit), he knew me best.
Dear Warden, I've no suicide in me, and there's none left could lead me there, and it may be that I've grown taller, but I'm practically blind.
She was weak since I can remember. I'd say her vulnerability was pneumonia, which I can only presume led to my hatred of 'Petunia': two words incredibly similar when reason encounters a child.
And I liked her name "Maribel" because it sounded like a flower.
I mimicked my brother, but he was persistent that I must call her mother.
Again, this made no sense until 8, when I had a revelation that all this time I'd had no family. At least not in the heart of a girl, because Maribel wasn't a vibrancy to look up to., though she was my one relation.
There was just her in a bed. Sometimes a man visited but I never knew why Willow grew tense; all I saw was my mother acquire spots of brown. How I loved brown, because it seemed as though she was genuinely Mother, like all those other moms that the sun tans, or that could be given filthy hugs that left patches of dirt. In turn, I always welcomed that man, and he was a 'saviour'.
And Willow's father.
Death found both Willow and that man (I know, now, the difference) before I understood 'abuse', and try not to blame me because she never complained and I thought abuse meant people were unhappy, but I saw both of them smile. I laid her beside him, but with space inbetween: a ground for my casket. Because I'd gone slightly crazy and I was telling Number Two that if I awakened as a zombie, I'd need to be able to find his hand first.
That was nuts. But Warden, I don't fully understand. You stopped her bleeding, but I'm left with nothing. I hear their voices in my head, telling me I'm healthy, but I know I'm barely breathing.
I dealt Three tragedy. And in doing so, I guilted myself into worthlessness. Classic to the moral law is: it is not acceptable to introduce a roommate to a shady character. But I ignored the concept of shady - applauded my nonjudgmental attitude, because with my twisted past I would have also been a shadowy figure. With a sweet, sweet smile, I handed that bright girl over to a Peacock who promised to give her 'a good feeling.' And I ignored her tears, because he said he'd please her.
Maybe if I hadn't been loopy, the only way I could "be" with One, I might have noticed that me and he weren't the same, and I could have judged him like the others.
Annie, I'm sorry, please just shine once more.
Even if you're afraid of me and my wickedness, don't be sucked into the gloom, because I can't offer advice to resurface, when I think there's none.
Now, there's Zero for me to turn to, because that's what I am. I am empty. I suppose that's what happens when I trust a boy who leaves, yearn for one who's weak, and think I've the durability to rely on myself (but I've equaled a pitch black crater for a while now).
You're more clear now, Warden. I can understand why you've taken everything. Since nothing I had would give me my fairyland ending. But where's my reward? I need my gift first, because these feet don't know which direction to head, and it's more like I was holding onto rocks that cut me while they warmed me. My feet kick against the waves, but in this half-in half-out position I can't get a good momentum, so a hand now would be nice.
My stories, did they surprise? I hear all this chatter about monsters, but I think we've got them wrong. Monsters simply have a hold one you, and there's no release before you've no choice but to part. They are strong, and it's true that I saw nothing stronger than the Willow. Only my jailer saw my potential, and he directed me to Zero. He asked for recognition so that I knew my task was not optional and he raised my walls until I stood there, lonely - pushed into belief in myself. But now I am the strongest I know, and I am walking on wind, and from up here I cannot see a single barrier. But Warden, don't you ever leave because if those walls break for a second and I see my demons, I know I'll lose flight and beg them to come back. And that would be the end, because there's no chance Number Four.
Paired, locked, our eyes
A marveled prize
Adrenaline on the rise
Under cotton candy skies
Stricken with paranoia
If you only knew
How much I care for you
A man of honesty
Far from travesty
Finding homage in familiar arms
Admiring all of the little charms
My heart went out to sea
And as you can see
My heart could not fancy
Any others hypocrisy
My hopes are set high
For simply, another try
I know when to admit wrong
And bear the brand of the fiery tong
The blood spilled onto my hand
For a mistake far from grand
Happiness; derived from your forgiveness
And a lesson learned through my weakness