as a generic medicine
exposed in a drugstore
no one knows your name
they take you
because you have a low cost

May 13, 2016
1:00 a.m.
"Grasping for straws, again!" It's amazing to me, that when we start aproaching  my age, how we start reflecting on events that, at the time of their occurence, were not important. Case in point:
Lubbock, Texas, September, 1953, if memory serves. During that time local television stations, at noon, always had a 15 minute newscast, followed by another 15 minutes of "public service programing, featuring upcoming events in the surrounding communities. This time of year, it was always the "South Plains Fair."
My brother, Bill, and I belonged to a volunteer service group that was scheduled to appear on such a program aptly titled "Hospitality Time." Also scheduled was a country western band that was to perform at the fair. I can't recall the name other than they were associated with a circuit called "The Louisiana Hayride",  similar to the "Grand 'ol Opry", both very popular on the radio, you do remember 'radio', don't you?"
Prior to the telecast, we got into a conversation with one of the musicians, who 'plunked' on his guitar while waiting for their call.He turned out to be the lead singer. Not being a country music fan, I  didn't pay much attention to them, after all, it was "just for the Fair." After they finished and were leaving, he turned to my brother and me, and said, "nice to meet you." It wasn't until a couple of years later, when I realized that we had met, and talked with, Elvis Presley.
copyright: richard riddle: 05-13-2016

The beds of my nails are slowly turning lavender, 

cyanotic they call it. 

I want to whisper to them, 

promise that we will learn to breathe again.
But my lungs are uncertain of that truth,
and the blood does not tell where it hides precious oxygen from me.

I spend my nights laying on the floor. Feeling my heart beat,

the flood of blood through my body.
No one can explain why it races, 

why it thunders like derby horses from head to toes and back again. 

Insomnia sounds like an engine trying too hard to keep us alive, 

like heavy rain beating against capillary walls.

I’m purging liquid poison into the toilet, 

whispering your name like holy, 
like gospel, 

between gasps of breath even though you are far from me, 

And I know that you’ve long since forsaken me. 

Thats why I drink,
to swallow down the pain of missing you,

to slow burn deep in my stomach, 

to turn poison to blood, 

to turn myself numb. 

I wish this didn’t hurt,

even when I know I deserve this. 

The only good thing in my life has been reduced to memories, my tears, I tear into my flesh.
Maybe if I spill my poison blood I could create cure, 

or in the very least drain myself of this vicious viscous fluid and make amends.
I want to be the best I could for you
but I couldn’t even handle being myself.

Yesterday you were the velvet one
Tickling my skin with your softest touch
Smooth and enchanting, you know I can’t keep my hands of you
Sweetest words, whispered in my ear
Couldn’t you made it last a little longer?

Today you are the one made out of leather
Flexible it seems, made to endure anything and anyone
Seductive, kinda forbidden, yet I’m scared
I try to go, you’re holding onto me
Afraid what’s in there the next day

Tomorro you’ll be metal
No difference between the shades of silver or gold
You’re hard to break, keeping me in my place
But oh these tears will look amazing on you
Glistening like diamonds, enhancing what we were

Waking up to cool sweet tingly morning
My thoughts knock at the memories gate way
With hearts ping command good times come refreshing
Within the cool pink world feelings sway
Heart reminds me to stay cool this summer day.

Melodious song I long to hear
Hearts desire, in its bloom.. must wait and see
Yes, there it arrives from someone dear
Intuitions are right that I should agree.

Digging to know the meaning I replay
Song and tune so soothing that’s all I know
Hearing gives me pleasure what more to say
Joy within remains like a flakey snow.

The smile on my face make others happy
Heart spake not- loves intent is promising
Wish each day remains just the same way
Pinkish like a watermelon morning.

When I was six years old,
my brother slept on the couch.
And sometimes,
I would sleep beside him.

I would creep into the gray night,
and whisper scratchily toward him:
"Clyyyde!"
"Hmm?"
"...Wanna play Download?"

I had picked up the word from some adult,
and had absolutely no idea
what it meant.

But this is how it worked:
I would lay on the floor beside him,
and as soon as I said
in my deepest six-year-old voice,
"DOWNLOAAD!"
we would pretend to dream.

When we 'woke up',
we would have to tell each other about it in detail.
That way, we could have tons of dreams
in one night.

Mine were always lands made out of food.
Because I was fat.

I don't remember his.
Probably 'cause they were stupid.

I'm so glad I still have the chance to play
at least one last time.