Wander
It’s a beautiful thing
Rocks under my hands
Leaves under my feet
The world is alive,
And I am too.

Into the woods
Lost among the trees,
Older and wiser,
They take me in and
I can breathe again.

I am not afraid
Protect myself no longer
I return laughing,
Resurface as I truly am.
The bruises from daily life
Seem not to sting so badly
Anymore.

Fully healed
The trees then open
To share their perspective
To teach me
What is true.

The scene was casual for its inhabitants but an unholy terror for his eyes
A carnival of violence and debauchery, ages 18 and up if you please!

Walk on in ladies and gentleman
You’re just in time to watch the show!
This circus is rated F for *******
And now its time for the new act.
Watch as the young thing we call
Serotonin Sam battles her demons
Armed only with her blustery attitude
And a .44 mm Magnum

Terrified, he stared on as she lifted the gun and pressed it to her temple
Her face was placid, serenely calm through one exhale and an explosion

When the smoke cleared the carnival disappeared
Replacing his fantasy of wild music and colors
With the faded pastel reality shrouded in darkness
She wasn’t gone quickly, she just became less
With each self-destructive move
She lost another piece of herself
And now instead of a vibrant girl
He listened as a ghost began to speak

“Can’t you feel me,” she whispered?
I came here to breathe words of derision in your ear
Take stock of where we are and react
Just like the sweet little boy you are

Give me your innocence, not much but it’ll do
I need it to lighten my heart and empty my brain
I’ve never had the will to do so much penance
I’m doing my best impression of oppression
And fertilizing the weeds that strangle you
I’ll need to drain you dry of wholesomeness
Come on babe, escape with me

“This isn’t you!” He screamed while the carnival colors and sounds return
Everywhere he looked he saw a different fun-house mirror version of himself

He turned and ran as fast as he could
Tripping on bags of peanuts, discarded prizes,
and popping a lost bag containing a lonely goldfish
He keeps running until a curtain smacks him in the face
And the scene is the same.
But he’s the one out there now.
How long can he regale the crowd?

With a flick of my worn down lighter I ignite my last Marlboro
The noises echoing from inside my house fell like a pulsing beat
I lay back, dried grass pillowing my head near a rabbit burrow
Pulling in a deep breath of smoke I hold in the menthol treat

My mother’s shrill laugh trills out and shakes me from my reverie
I really must rejoin people; leave my place in the clouds at night
But just for awhile I stay and let my bones soak in the lunar energy
Before I leave I memorize my connection to nature, my place in it’s light

Inside those walls my relaxation slides from my body, gently numbing me
Creating a world in which I’ll never feel panicked or elated
They live within my bubble of joy, I console them, and they are free
And never have to live with the knowledge that I’m sedated.

The most comfortable and easiest relationship
I have ever had is with my own self-loathing.
It’s almost natural at this point to expect failures.
The whispered criticisms rise in my mind,
A crescendo of hatred and mutiny,
Quieted only by the sound of my door opening.
Soft footsteps shuffle across the carpet and ***** clothes
Stepping over unfinished homework
And an unraveling purple blanket made of yarn.
The din in my mind reminding me of faults,
Failures, stupid conversations I have had,
And every insecurity my subconscious can think of,
Stops completely as I feel the bed dip beneath your weight.
I wait, as still as I can be, for the feel of your hand on my hair,
Brushing it back, out of my eyes with a smile.

I could feel the gentle snag of my bathing suit bottoms on cement,
Enjoying the sliver of shade against the afternoon sun that’s offered.
All six of us had been running home ready to change and watch cartoons,
Until labored breathing slowed you down. I stayed to keep you company, and
I watched and waited while you fought your feet back into their bracers.
Pretty, purple, and pink; they fit perfectly into your shoes, swim or sneakers;
Without them your painfully high arches would end up broken or bruised.
I turned away to stare down at a pair of black men’s dress shoes with worn laces.

I stared down at those worn laces wondering why they were so old, and
In those impeccably new black patent dress shoes reflecting my face.
I let my eyes slowly drift up the length of this man, every inch a new perspective.
I couldn’t understand where he’d come from or what he was doing, and
What’s his shirt say? We won’t learn more cursive until next year at least.
I’m cold. My eyes are no longer straining against the sun. Goosebumps erupt.
I’m snapped from the retreat into my mind with a sound it couldn’t mask,
I looked to you, then up to his hands brandishing your bracer, I’d heard it crack.

I took stock of my surroundings to figure out why my mind had shut down,
I was fully awake and racing to catch up, to rescue us, to find a solution.
You can’t defend yourself with a broken bracer and your swimsuit on the ground.
I pulled my suit into place, armoring myself against him, and tried to think.
Before my mind was made up I felt my foot rising to kick, hoping to catch some *****
While you bit his arm with the same ferocity you generally reserved for your teachers.
You spat out his blood and what looked like some flesh with a maniacal laugh
While I grabbed your arm and dragged you away from him and back home.

I remember it distinctly
That feeling under my nails
The tearing of skin as I ripped away the tape
And shredded the sheet of waxy paper
That separated me from the seeing everything clearly
And living in the world fully with everyone else

I remember the demolition vividly
Where I screamed and kicked at my self-imposed cage
Desperate for an escape from therapeutic exile
“It’s for your own safety!” they cried dully from the other side
I remember purposefully ignoring them
And even making a ****** gesture

I left and I left with haste
I didn’t stop to admire the splendor
Or even discover color again
Walking out into the real world with no film
I took in a deep breath of reality
Alone and alive and free at last, once again

Now, though, as I remember the paper
That sheet that veiled me, or was it protecting me
I remember the outside
It was scratched and mottled and ****** up beyond all saving
And I think about my new face, my new expressions
And I see a reflection of others and choices I didn’t make

I’ve become things and done things
Things you couldn’t tell your mother
Lost my chance to run for cover
So come on down the liquid sings
My warmth is like no other

I was pathetic
I knew it and so did everyone else
I tried too hard and wanted too much
To be liked, appreciated, noticed, or even spoken to
I could practically hear the internal monologue of the people I talked to
“God why is she here?” “She never shuts up!”
But I could feel it, deeply and vibrantly; I could be a great friend
I had the potential! I knew I could do it.
Until finally I met someone who genuinely enjoyed me
Someone who thought I was smart, funny,
And his eyes didn’t glaze over when I talked
And I did talk, endlessly about things like comics and books and cigarettes
I can still remember the beginning of that instant camaraderie
Its painted with the electric blue of his band t-shirts
Stained with the heavy scent of his grape cigars
And dotted with trips out on the town
But the universe must know about me
Because on a balmy summer night, right after the start of the school year,
Like the one we’d met in a year before
He was electrocuted, fell fifty feet, and announced dead on arrival
And even for someone who’d be friends with a girl like me
That seemed like overkill

This one is for the doctor who called me “delicate”
I think I missed that word in the thick textbooks about disease I’ve seen
This is for the lab technician who lost not one but two vials of my blood
Because I really wanted to help that new nurse figure out veins again.
This is for the stupid slogans on the walls
A fichus with the word peace under it, I'm cured.
This is for the geriatric room with the low table they always put me in
An arthritis patient means elderly woman, right?
This is for the negative tests and endless questionnaires about my health
Checking how often, how severe, and how much I care.
This is for the four empty orange prescription bottles sitting neatly on my desk
Red pills, and yellow pills, and white ones, oh my!
This is for the loud groan of pain in the morning I make before I even wake
Because why shouldn’t my roommate wake up when I do?
This is for the symphony of my cracking joints and creaking bones
Because violently trembling when you walk up stairs is so very ****.
This is for the manic googling at 4 AM,
Does this symptom mean anything? Is it just a quirk or side affect?
This is for WebMd, bless their hearts,
Who think that sniffles mean polyps and headaches mean cancer.
This is for the flights upon flights of stairs I climb each day,
Cats are considered ****, is panting like a dog?
This is for the cramping and shaking hands everyday
Because as a writer and artist I never even use them right?
This is for my mother
Who’s waited patiently with me through every doctor’s visit
This is for my best friend Lauren
Who missed three classes to take me to a clinic
This is for my nephew
Who is too big for me to pick up without grimacing now
This is for the wine I drank
And the bedroom basement I climb out of
And the backpack I heave around
And the school lunches I leave in toilets
It’s for the nights I have to stay in and the ones where I make myself leave
Because the only thing tough enough to stop me
Is me.
And I’ll tip my hat to myself for putting up such a good challenge.
It’ll just make it even more satisfying when I knock it the **** down.