As I sat there contemplating...
I realized I was not as important to him as he was to me.
            
Jonesy 2019©

There, I wrote it. Above.
I simply believe it needs to be in print... out there, so to speak,
And perhaps a few hundred may read, *******,
And, hysterically, or in solace,
Make use of it;
Openly, lingusly or fingeratively,
As we do *****, ******, and ******* (tsk-tsk).
Whether you agree or not, please yourself.

Roses are red,
My carnations are too...

Growing up as a child and a young teen was not the best,
The memories up to this day traumatize me:
I always remember the bad ones and never the rest.
Now don't take this as a sob story I don't take well to pity,
Just give me a few minutes to dwell
On a childhood that was anything but well.

It was the 29th day of March,
A long and eerie night
A miscarriage was near in sight
The doctor told her:
Its very possible that you will lose your baby
After hours of pain and blood loss
Came a bundle of joy with "cat eyes" that brought light to all a young mother's flaws.
It was a miracle.
"Its a baby girl, woah look at those eyes they are almost bioluminescent in the dark"
Parents could never be so proud to bring such a beautiful creature to the world.
"I wish all the best, to this little girl"

Life was great
But I wasn't truly welcomed
Some people my existence upset.
But as a baby and toddler, it was great all I had to do was breastfeed, cry and ****.
Then time happened and life became complicated.
My mom cheated (or was continuously cheating) and there was no preset
My dad wished there was a reset
And me... I was treated like an asset;
For money.
For **** sake my young years have been duped.


Jonesy 2019 ©

I took the pen with me,
After signing the parlor guest book,
At the Home.

You might think of forgiving me,
Thinking as good people do,
I took it as a memorial sticking point;
But I didn't know the deceased.

I was acting as a devout escort,
To be seen as doing the right thing.
Perception, you've been told,
Is everything.

So, I made sure no one saw me
Take the pen.

For extra insurance,
To project my semblance,
Following the eulogies,
I attended the luncheon,
And ate salmon sandwiches,
And carrot sticks.
On leaving, I grasped the hands:
Sorry for your troubles;
Came home and used that pen,
To create this.
The End.

If I want you to continue reading,
Then I must be truthful and forthright.
That's my decision.
And I'm good at deciding stuff.

One time I decided to change
My mailing address, have my mail
Redirected for a personal reason.
Another time, I decided to impersonate
My brother in court.
I didn't say all decisions were good ones.
So, allow your imagination to comply as I tell this story...

Did I mention I've a very active imagination.
More profound than my decision making skills.
    
     There's a young boy, on the verge of adulthood,
     aged twelve, and he often stays out all night...

Okay, I'll tell the truth. The boy is me.
But you probably already knew that,
Didn't you?

     On arriving home one morning,
     He comes upon an unusually locked
     back door, but he can hear the TV and
     the dog whinning. The Mercury is idling
     in the driveway. The trunk ajar...

My imagination is messing with the truth.
There is no open trunk, but the curtain blowing
Out my parents' main floor bedroom window is true.

     The idea of my having a key to the house is silly.
     That would mean eight keys with kids that know
     nothing about locks and keys. We were free to run,
     uninhibited, all adventure, no phones, little radio,
     and a TV that hardly ever worked. So, no key. To my
     right, I notice the frill laced curtain flapping out my
     parents' bedroom window.
     Open? Do I dare?

I've always been known for my recklessness and lack of foresight.
So I turned towards their window...

I dipped my toe in the Atlantic
and wondered how long it would take to get to England on a rowboat
or to swim there outright
as if I would be so inclined in either fashion

I've seen **** and Jane through many trials
all the running, jumping, and frolicking
never really seemed book worthy
but I read on dutifully hoping they would surprise me

Eventually, I stopped reading the adventureless series
and grew into darker theories of life
that have lead me to ponder the distance
across the ocean to Neverland in ways that I couldn't actually attempt

Safe in my unathletic prestenses, yet vulnerable in my dreams
I remember the snowbirds that chased me
through childhood summers
I remember the accents and crystal blue eyes

I will remember your face... always
but I no longer remember your name

Millenia a moment
wishes on all the starfish in the ocean
wouldn't make Wilcox happy in love

Indivisible divisions
infinite wisdom where math and science
will never meet God

Did science create a universe or simply define it?
Where beginning meets end in pinpoints of minutia
that by definition and design will never actually meet

Cradle me in your arms for nanoseconds
each holding an eternity
If only time could be held by more than mere memory

Maybe, everything until the now that is never the now
can touch a moment
that can never be broken into its smallest parts