Tag: writing

Doormat

She knocked on my door like she always did

Ghost like

Nothing to do, why not hang out with a friend

She knows I don’t see her as a friend

We pretend

I tried to quiet my heart

Unable to stop it’s talking when she was near

She just wanted sleep

She could have gone home

She could have done something more productive

Alas, here she is in my bed sleeping

I play the music loud to drown out my heart

She can’t hear either

Me liking her makes no sense

We’d never be compatible

Then I watch her breathe

How peaceful she looks

I watch as she takes a breath

Follow the flow of oxygen

In through her nose

Symmetrical with her lips

Always slightly chapped

Like how she’s always slightly hungry

Down her long tanned neck

Her chest moves with life

Always sighing in sleep

Then she wakes up blinking at me

Caught

She stares into my eyes

Forcing me to fidget

She has an amazing person

I try to remind myself

We’ve been friends for long

Not love, just infatuation

Memories

When we said ‘I love you’

As friends

Next to her gravitational pull

I have pictures

My lips her kneck

My lips her thighs

My lips between her

She’s just a friend

I’m just a doormat with a bed

One that always says ‘Welcome Home’

 

 

What is lonely?

She remembers this feeling. It’s nothing new, a decade ago she felt it too. Restless, disappointed, and scared. Still having trouble with fixing these issues. She used to wonder how people acted the way they did, how they kept moving. She hasn’t been able to shake the feeling of uselessness as she wonders once again the point to anything. She has been staring at her phone, that cost her more than her rent, realizing that no one was going to text her. Even if they did text her or call what would she even talk about? How she is stuck? That she knows soon everyone will be gone doing great things, while she’s still here doing nothing. Or, how about her fear of doing things because after putting all that effort in you didn’t even enjoy it? Talk about the empty? It doesn’t matter, so she sits. Or, rather, lies on her bed staring at the ceiling. Thinking about how much time is left on this earth for her. It weighs upon her chest and makes her want to do something.

“Twenty-four years is so long. I feel so tired. I haven’t even done or seen much. Nothing has happened to me. However, I’m over it. There are people who’ve done and seen so much. Someone could do great with this life. I really wish it wasn’t given to me.” She thinks.

She decides it’s too quiet, that was what was wrong. She puts on some music which does nothing but reminds her of the past. She wraps the music around her like the comfort blanket it is. She stops hearing music and only sees pictures. The different people she liked. The different people she tried to befriend. The realization that she never learned to connect with anyone.

Her eyes grow heavy and she accepts that none of this will change. All because of her. It all goes black to the perfect world called sleep. Her phone lighting up and singing goodnight.

 

How to Feel

I tried to grab her

All I got was air

She left the way I knew she would

What to do?

Now that the light is gone

I’m here empty

Is this how an empty husk feels?

Forced to exist

Having no reason to

Not wanting to

You woke up though

Seize the day, is it?

Your purpose in life is not to die

Even if that is all you are thinking

Mine

I called her my wife

We only knew each other for two short weeks

I probably sensed it then

We were from the same cloth

 

It was rare to see me without her

Her without me

In her car, eating food, walking anywhere

I told everyone that she was mine

 

We never dated

We were just always together

All those lesbians eyeing her could go to hell

I claimed her

 

I lost her though

She told me the truth

I was the only one that had nothing going on

Crying on my bed she tells me of her ex-girlfriend

 

She gave no inkling

Nor any promises

It was just my selfishness

They broke up. This changes nothing

 

She lays on my bed

Hands above her head

An invisible rope around her wrists

She deserves a punishment for straying

 

I tell her that she’s mine. She can never get away.

 

 

 

 

 

Choice

TheLovelyPenelope's avatar

She sat down in the leather seat, petting. Soft brown leather prepared, to tell the truth, this time. The older man in front of her pale and gray, legs crossed, judging. She has, to tell the truth, but where to start.

“How are you feeling today? Anything you want to talk about?” He says while opening up his notepad.

“I don’t know. I don’t have much to talk about. I haven’t really been doing much. Work, sleep, eat, repeat. The days I have off seem endless yet too short.”

“What do you do on your days off? Do you do anything that  you want to enjoy?”

“Well, nothing really. Everything sucks and I’m broke. What is there to do? So, I stay home and watch movies or stupid television shows. Anything that doesn’t have to do with reality because I avoid the things that I don’t like. I watch the things that I want to do and feel but dare not go after.”

“Why do you feel that  you shouldn’t go after them? What stops you from enjoying these things?”

“For one, I don’t deserve them. I also have learned at an early age wanting things and actually getting them normally ends badly. The path there sucked, you get there and it sucks still. Relationships, goals, life in general at least that what it feels like. Who knows maybe I’m wrong but then that just proves further that I don’t belong here. I’m pretty sure there has been some mistake.”

“Relationships. Let’s talk more about that, which one of your relationships have made you fee this way? Who was it and when was it?”

“I remember it well, it was when I knew that living with my father was never an option. It’s also when I knew his truth without anyone telling me. Something he would not admit to me until I was sixteen or seventeen years old.

I was about six years old, excited because it was Daddy’s night. I get to sleep over the big blue house, I would get real television, no bunny ears, be away from my mom, see my grandpa. It was going to be great it would be everything that I wanted. Daddy wanted to get something from the corner store. I’ve always liked car rides so I’m excited to go with him. When we get there is this man there. Wearing all white with a long Santa beard, saying hello to my father. My father says hi back and tells him to come over to the car to meet me. He tells my dad that he can’t, his feet are stuck but hello little one. I tell my dad we should just go, that the man isn’t right. Even though being a sheltered child I knew danger when I saw it. I knew that if my dad went over to that man, his feet would get stuck too. My dad didn’t listen to me, he went to the fake Santa they talked for a while, it felt like over an hour. I rolled down the window and yelled to my dad to come on. I’m a child I should go to bed early, even though I never did go to bed early. I was always one to toss and turn and watch the clock. Go to sleep for a few hours and wake up in the morning like I slept for a whole day. Anyway, he comes to the car and he says to me that my uncle will be coming to pick me up because he knows that I am tired. He was going to hang out with his friend for a while. My favorite uncle came to pick me up, he came to pick me up and we sang the songs on the radio on the way to his house. In the back of my mind, I knew my dad wasn’t going to be coming for me that night. I talked to my uncle as if he was, I told him that my dad was silly, but he was definitely coming to pick me up. My uncle’s girlfriend fixed me some food, I can’t remember her face, I can only remember that I thought she was very pretty.  While I was eating my food and I was telling my uncle about the things my dad and I were going to do. When I finished I looked at my uncle and said ‘Daddy’s not coming back tonight is he?’ He looked back at me sad and nodded his head. I knew my dad had left me, I knew my uncle wouldn’t tell me directly what it was that took him away, but I knew. I’ve always known. My mom never had to tell me, my dad never had to confess it. I knew. I’ve never told anyone about this. Cause there was no reason to I felt,  but I liked telling it.”

“Well, I’m honored. Thank you for telling me. I guess I can understand how you felt that way after that. Especially after not opening up about it. People around you thinking that you don’t know but you know pretty well actually.”

“Ya, adults never think kids are very smart. They are, they know and understand a lot more than what we give them credit for. This is why I think philosophy is interesting, to think that we have all the knowledge from previous but we forget it and have to learn it all again.”

“That is an interesting concept. Plato is one of the most interesting philosophers out there.”

“Let me ask you this though doctor. If you had the knowledge of your previous reality and the choice to live. Would you choose to be born doctor?”

The timer went off telling the doctor and the patient that time was up. She got up with not a word and left. Normally the doctor would keep going a little after the session, make sure everything was wrapped up. She left him no chance of that, leaving without the answers.

 

Blue, Bird

One son named Blue and a daughter named Birdy. I’ll tell my son every day that the world wants to see him cry and sing. He will roar and breathe fire letting the world to see his strength. I’ll tell my daughter that the song blackbird isn’t her life story. She will fly meeting many people to learn from. Absorb the confidence, patience, and strength of our ancestors. Learn more, strive for more and people will see your name and color in a different light. I will tell them this because I never grew my strength, I want for them to find and cultivate theirs. To show the world that wisdom and kindness go together and shouldn’t be considered a weakness. That we never really grow up but are able to slowly make the right decisions. That I love them, that they are mine, and I will always cheer for them. I won’t tell them that they are special, that’s something they need to find out themselves. My dear bluebirds I set you free in a dark and cold world; my light always pointing towards warmth and peace.

Adulthood

It kind of feels like you’re still five years old and you get thrown into a fire pit

No warning that there is such a thing that could hurt so much

No rules on how to get out of it

Just burning

While in this fire you will meet other people who are on fire

Their fire seems less hot and easier to deal with

You try to learn their ways only to have it backfire

You wonder why no one taught you any of this

What was all that education for?

What were parents, teachers, and professors for?

They stand there soaking wet as you burn

All the while saying how proud they are

“Proud that I’m dying?”

“We went through it. You’ll be ok”

Forget this system of misinformation

 

 

 

Stolen Firsts

“Oh, shit!” He said, with panic. I looked down at him worried “What’s wrong? What’s happening”

“There’s a lot of blood. I’ve never seen this much blood. Does it hurt?” “No, let me get up.” I get up staring at the bed that looks like a murder scene. I then feel a rush of blood and other wet things pour out between my legs. The floor is red, my clothes are red and he’s going to need to buy a new bed.

Two years earlier, coming out of the subway was when I first met him. I was wasted, tired and hungry. Climbing the never ending stairs while mentally counting how many blocks it was to my father’s house. A muscular man, 6’2” walking towards me, throws his cigarette and chugs the last of his coffee. He then says to me “Hey baby, did you have a goodnight?” I don’t know this man, I don’t know anyone here. I turn around to see if someone is behind me. Three am really is the hour that everyone stops existing. Noticing that I thought he was talking to someone else he grabs my chin and leans me against the bus stop. My first kiss was all teeth and saliva, from a stranger. I didn’t like it but I didn’t say no, so I guess that convinced him to ask the next question. “Want to come to my house? It’s just up the street from here.”

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >  > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

 

Should I continue? I’d love to see some comments

I, Breathe

Ask me if I am happy

I will answer

I never expected to be

 

For someone that looks so happy

There is no faith in humanity

No one is worthy of it

 

My favorite song in a murderous musical

It is basically how I feel about life most days

“We all deserve to die, even you Miss. Lovett, even I”

That song begins to play constantly in my head

I know that I’m going mad

It’s all I can think about

 

I start to question if bad things are really bad

If I am the only one that is drowning on malfeasance‎

Then comparison begins

 

I have not suffered

I have not tried hard enough

Why do I have the right to feel this way?

 

I probably don’t

Yet, here I am

Weak and unworthy

 

Still breathing . . .

Extraction

They always smell sterile don’t they? Dentist offices. She wonders why people are afraid of this place. Most people wouldn’t even come to this one. Hidden, underground, and with no windows. She isn’t scared, even though, she’s going to remove all four of her wisdom teeth. There’s a new dental assistant today, pretty handsome; another distraction to take away the pain perhaps? Sally, the receptionist, is telling her back information on the dentist, on how much he loves extractions. Knowing actually starts to make her nervous. Her overactive imagination kicks in and she pictures this man itching to pull anything. Finished with her procedure she smiles into the mirror and sees a toothless grin. She shudders at the thought.

There’s whistling coming down the stairs and footsteps that sounded like a bigger person made them. A man who looks like the Spanish version of Santa Claus walks into the dental office.

“Today is a glorious day!!” He said with jolly “Are you ready for today? Let’s get started!”
She looks at Sally as the man goes behind the door to set up.
“Don’t worry.” Sally said, “He’s really good. Everyone comments they don’t feel a thing.”

Sitting in the chair the new assistant puts on classical music. A big change from the normal random TV shows they play. She makes small talk and notices a wedding ring. Too bad, she was going to get his number for this girl who has a thing for Russian men. The dentist came in with six needles filled with Novocain.  He fills her up effortlessly; one needle for each corner, one for the roof of her mouth, and the last one for her bottom gums.

He takes off his mask to smile at her “There is no need to worry sweetheart. I have a friend with me today. You probably know him . . .” She blinks at him as the suction continues in the silence. “Jesus. He is with me and he is my best friend. Everything will be fine.”  She remembers that this dentist is also a pastor; God gave him two callings.

She tenses up as she feels him pulling at her tooth, she’s too doped up to feel pain but can still feel movement. Each tooth comes out with no problems; the assistant and Santa dentist make small talk. Teaching the assistant of the basics of extraction he tells the assistant that he likes to do it the natural way. Santa dentist says it’s the best way to get a clean pull and is less dangerous for the patient. All that she knows is that she may need to take a nap; the last tooth is taking longer than the others. Is this the reason why Frank Ocean made that song? She thought before everything went black.