I have never had the patience to solve a Rubix Cube
So
instead I cheat
I peel each different colored sticker off
and place them in a way that
makes it appear solved
complete
I guess I do the same with myself
I peel off each of my colors
aspects of my personality
and rearrange them so I appear solved
complete
But under the seemingly ordered colors
I am scrambled

Hanging in space,
suspended in nothingness,
tiny little cubes
with rounded edges
glistening brightly
like bulbs;
they're moments.

Some moments are nice
and some worth writing about.
The best moments **** time;
Earth spins slowly,
your bones tilt
your guts twist
and then it's over
like blown-out candles
just like that.

The tiny little cubes are snapshots,
they capture the moments
and they won't shake them after they come out.
The cubes are collages
of your entire life
of the feelings you've felt
the experiences you've had
and your love wrote a cute note at the bottom of the picture.

The tiny little cubes go unnoticed
by most people
but you.
However,
the moments still exist
as long as there are someone
to remember them.

You want the cube
We have the cube
Sam has the cube
Its on the building
Optimus Prime was to sacrifice
destroy the cube
Cube Power
Destroyed
MegaTRON

Shiny Glazed Sadness

Smooth, structured, "put together"
some would say
in order

Under a soft clean exterior and the shimmer of serene plains
Lies
Lies
Lies a lightless Jagged reality.

Hope



Stunted.

I trace my fingertips
along your neon facets.
I twist and turn you
to make a match
or make a mish mash
of coloured squares.

You bring me back in time
to 1980's plastics.
I cannot solve your puzzle
for i lack your cuboid logic.
But just to rotate and
feel your shape in my hand
is sublime and fantastic!

Gently scraping the adhering paper from the firm plastic, colorful cube
That beared a delicate weight in my soft, precarious pink hands,
I grasped the sticker and pressed it on my protuberant little veins--
“Innocence!” Clarence cried my misleading appellation,
“Are you cheating? You’re taking off the stickers, mindlessly relocating them
To unravel (or reassemble, rather) the poor little tormented Rubik’s.”
*“Nay, you fool. I’m just rearranging them so that no one can solve the puzzle.
I’m a sadist, not a fraud.”

Through my mother’s thinning hair,
I see her scalp,
and I realize that I don’t know her at all.


While I was sitting on my father’s lap he turned the cube over and over in my hands, intertwined with my fingers, my palms already marked with stress lines. They buried my life line. I told him how I could not line up the colors, the way they’re supposed to be much like I cannot line up when my parents eyes meet.




I cannot line up with your footsteps or the cracks in the pavement, you are far ahead of me in life, in thought.

I am trailing behind.


One night you ran up the hill to the park and left me behind in the darkness to stare at invisible trees, and all I could think was could you hear my voice in your head calling you back into alignment wit me.