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Turquoise Mist May 2014
Underneath it all
Is just
A little girl

A little girl
Who fell in love with
The rush of wind through her hair
The feeling of flying
The risk
The reward

A little girl
Who crashed
And crashed
And crashed

But never gave up
Found this while cleaning out my room today. I wrote it at about this same time a year ago. I didn't mean to, nor did I realize at the time, but it is about much more than just skateboarding.
Turquoise Mist May 2014
My fingers roll around the handle
Holding tight, I twist
Slowly, I make my way around the can
All of the sudden
Her hands
Cover mine
Stroking, squeezing
Not guiding
No
Not guiding
But
Her, warming up
Me, cooling down
Yes, freezing me
With the knowledge of what is
To come
With her other hand
She makes a fist
And punches straight through my sternum
Blood sprays and
Shattered fragments of my ribs
Litter the floor
Reaching in
Her poisoned fingers
****** my heart
Leaving behind
Black prints
Red streaks
Evidence
But only I can see it
Within seconds
My spine is tingling
Every muscle in my body
On edge
This gaping hole
These fingers
Draped around,
Constricting the one thing
I thought she couldn't touch
Yes,
It's too much
I am ice cold
I am about to close my eyes
Forever
But before I can succumb
The air in punctuated by a palpable
Pop!
I lift the lid of the can
Set it off to the side
And pour the thick liquid into the ***
The stench is overpowering
It crawls it's way all over the room
Cramming into the very crevices of the wall
Behind me
Above me
Beneath me
I can not escape this smell
I am smothered in a blanket of this decaying odor
I am boiling up
Hot and steamy
With every inhale
My nose is filled with the tendrils of this pungent aroma
Soon I can feel it
Gnawing through my flesh with no set course
I can do
Nothing
I am at the mercy of this smell
It will do with me
Whatever it desires

Please, finish!

Her voice breaks through the fog
Scratchy and distant
But there

You need to finish!

Again, it comes
This horrendous voice
But I don't want to
I know what will happen when
I finish
I know
And I don't want that
I will never want that
I am sick to my stomach
Really, I am
You make me sick
You and that godawful smell

I can't even pick up my spoon

All I can think is
Tomato soup is served
Way too often here
Turquoise Mist May 2014
I want a doll with eyes
Yes,
With beautiful eyes
And with feet
That can run away
And toes
That can feel

And then
I want to take this doll and
Stab it
Smash it
Tear out its hair
Slice off its toes
Chop it up
Mar its perfect, plastic skin

Leave it

Unrecognizable

**Because that's exactly what you did to me
Turquoise Mist May 2014
Run
My feet hit the pavement
One
Then the other
Kicking back
Leaving behind
I don't know what

With each step
I feel it
Resonating through me
Shaking me to the core
Pounding up my legs
Trouncing across my torso
Igniting my arms
Grasping desperately
Determined
It clings to the very edges of my mind

An hour
Just me
This road
And my thoughts
Dangerous
I know
But I like risks
Nothing thrills me more
I push on
Forward
But all of the sudden

I don't know where I am
Turquoise Mist Apr 2014
Particles condensing
Colliding
Collapsing
On top of me
Your limbs
Closing in
Fast
No time to react
Overwhelmed by the pressure
The air
Filling
Space depleted
Too soon
Not a corner is left
Empty
Every inch of my body
Surrounded
Wrapped up
Your possession
Vigorously, I shake
A wild turbulent with no course
But I cannot throw this stifling cover

I am gasping for breath
But my jaw remains hinged

I am clawing to break free
But I can't even lift my arms
Turquoise Mist Apr 2014
When you
Split your time
One leg
Stuck knee deep in the atmosphere
The other foot
Caught in endeavors entirely separate
When you
Live in two different worlds
With only a whisper of overlap
You really are
Not living
In either one
But rather
Just going through the motions
Just eating up time
Existing

Eventually the stretch
Will break you
And you will be left
Laying on the ground
Your body
Ripped straight down the middle
Turquoise Mist Apr 2014
It's all okay
You hold firm to a fraying string
The brittle pieces
Breaking off
Course against the soft pads of your fingertips
Oh, but boy do you
Grip tight
To this fading reality
All the way up to the day
You see it
All the way
Until you meet your copy
Face to face
And you realize
The images before you,
They should match.
The two people standing before you,
They should be the same.

But they aren't.

They are starkly different
Even though they are
Identical

You are split in half
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