The Raw, Wild West Indeed!

I'm in a raft you gently paddle
The sense of this argument that comes
To me and tells me I've been a wild fool,
Better off smothered, a tool,
That entraps me in this triangle
of guilt, fear, and waves of madness.
I am on the verge of a total meltdown
Because you sing gently and dip your oar
Into the water quietly.

All the time!

It's now finally sundown,
Still the ebb and flow of my nerves
Are unsettled as the world spins around me,
My stomach in a knot I can't breath.
This is the end and *my heads numb, I can not feel,
There is one thing on my mind and it won't
Go anywhere so it disappears a distant hush.
There is the scent of flowers on your tidy scarf,
It reminds me of the fragrance of too much
Cologne. I try to escape but you hold all the keys,
*I just wish your boring "epic" show of modern
Over perfection would leave me alone!

Smoke and musk and a bit of spice
That was the fragrance of the cologne
He was wearing that night.

Black background and shiny lights..
That's what I saw in his endlessly
Dark charcoal coloured eyes.

Smouldering fire and goosebumps in sight
That's what his hands
On my back felt like.

Electricity shooting up my spine
And rendering me paralysed
That's what I felt when his lips brushed mine.

When Napoleon walks into my house, he doesn’t shake my hand
Instead he nods, clears his throat, and says my other name, “Thien.”

“Chu,” I say. He sniffs the air like a K-9 from Denmark,
presses his lips into a line, like one found on a blank page,

like one found on a mirror, and like one found in McDonalds.
He smells the smoke from the Marlboro lights on my black-Tee shirt.

I reach into the pocket of my trousers, searching for cologne:
Tommy; ocean; breeze. It’s lost. I mutter, “son-of-a-bi—”

Chu stares, tries to punish me. I want to laugh, want to shrug.
“Anh-Thien,” says a young voice. I close my eyes. And see my cousin.

It's a humorous thing
How scent can take you places
Past, present and future
Relive fury
Remember lust
Extract happiness
O sweet aroma
Teach me to conjure these feelings again

O masculine, divine smell
Covering my clothes
Filling the atmosphere with mesmerizing fumes
Intoxicating my mind with sensual aromatics
Drink me up
I will **** you in, I will take you in completely
Take me to far away places, dreams and memories of soft kisses and tender hugs
Of romantic dances and innocent laughter
Remind me of past events once enjoyed
Resurface memories far and near, quiet and loud
Let me live them once more

My brother brushes past me in the kitchen.
I find myself offended, not for his rudeness nor the brash way he attempts to apologize.
But because on my own flesh and blood I smell him.
It has been years but the odor of his cologne still sends me spiraling.

Memory is a haunting thing.

How am I supposed to move on when every wide eyed, bro-tank wearing beef cake smells like my worst nightmare,
It feels like I am just trying to escape,
but was forced into Stockholm's syndrome via perfumed air and this sense of helplessness that I cannot bear.

This is what it feels like to drown all over again,
but this time I am perpetually a scared 14 year old girl, and it is arms surrounding me not lake water.
I could find irony in using that brand of cologne to light myself on fire,
or to inhale the aerosol into my already full lungs for a short high
Either way it would be the same as killing myself all over again.

Half of me is still on that mattress somewhere,
I don't know how to get her back, or why I want her so bad.
But, how can I make this little girl inside stop crying if I'm not there to comfort her?
How could I ever be there to comfort her?

I am so broken and bruised,
I still flinch when hit in spaces once blackened by hands I thought I knew.

I can smell your sweet cologne,
and my heart aches...

A warm flood of tears rush,
knowing that I cannot hold you,
or feel the warmth of your comfort,
for you are not next to me...

The place of beauty is your home,
surrounded by loving family.

The place of greed has become mine,
adapting so effortlessly...wanting,
all of you.

Another whiff of your cologne,
keeps the flood flowing...

As I face your side of the bed,
staring at the void that is left,
I sink deeper into despair...
with my need growing stronger.

Feeling as if I will not survive,
this uncontrollable flood,
quickly becomes heavier...
weeping for your presence.

I need to look into your eyes...
those gorgeous windows of yours,
to see that beautiful soul beneath;
to have my tranquility.

I need to be held in your arms...
listening to soft whispers of love,
experiencing that new feeling,
of being completely whole.

Only to my torture do I dare,
to brave another whiff...

I am reminded with wet warmth,
of how much I need you by my side.

I miss you like crazy...
as my broken flood gates,
have revealed.

Copyright ©2015 Jamie Johnson

no. 1, pop perfect record. The energy of dialing wars- each canvas has its temples splintered. Put down the smoking, and you can beat them with nerves. Your new revolution!

My father was your father until you had him shot while he was sleeping under his bed. Now you make popcorn and read the funny papers alone.

even. You bought me that cheap cologne from the mall. Thanks little brother.

[] True [] Love [] Story []

You hugger-mugger, slubberdegullion, crapulous lumming. Then enecate and banjax.

You have always been the logomachous one.