mud made

August 29, 1998
1:46 am
Toledo Hospital

high pitched wails deafen,
the song of life.

she grows, slowly then all at once.

chubby fingers clench around fabric,
determination bursting the seams of a two-foot frame.
legs rattling, she stands for the first time.
exuberant praise earns gummy smile.

a little girl sat cross legged on the floor,
all wild eyes and frizzy curls.
it was dead silent in the tv room,
for no nonsense was allowed
while maggie and the ferocious beast plays.
her ears pricked, honing in 
the crunch of gravel under rubber,
a thud and skitter of a soccer ball,
exuberant chatter floods the sidewalk.
all her mom sees is a blur, 
and front door is flying off its hinges
“mama i’m going outside!”
her only daughter sprinting,
desperate to join the fray of neighborhood kids.
her mother wondering when she got so big.

she hides in the bushes, dylan by her side.
hands trembling, clutched white knuckled
around the tweety bird scissors her mom bought.
a deep breath and, she grabs one of her braids.
snip.
two inches of pre-pubescent rebellion,
flutter to the ground.

 thin academy wood presses into her,
rigid as the minds of her peers.
mock-u-mentary flickering across the screen,
extremist philosophy guised as a religious and cultural norm.
her breath quickens with anger and indignation.

it’s wrong.

how could an educator facilitate fearmongering?
stamping their signature on countless death certificates.
the thundering drum of her heart consumes her,
say something!
clammy hands fidget, tapping her pen,
leg bouncing, stomach writhing,

she raises her hand.

a 15-year-old hunches forward, budding frame coiled
frantic to absorb all aspects of mise-en-scène,
lights flicker, dancing across prescription lenses.
she’s entranced.
dynamic characters, intoxicant dialogue,
nestled elegantly in a beautiful story.
here her love of film is born.
the basement, her hira.

she steps out onto clouds,
brimming with unrestrained glee.
plastic fob nestled into her palm,
grinning she puts the key in the ignition,
and turns. engine sparks to life.
she taps a message “i’m on my way”
the meaning transformed,
with the acquisition of a little plastic card.

the day before graduation,
she fidgets in the cracked salon chair.
silver foil glinting, black smock two sizes too big.
the foil comes off and,
blonde streaked through dark brown,
she smiles.

it never seemed like much,
not a place of substance or stature.
but toledo is where i became me.

roots

i pull into the cul-de-sac
engine rumbling and rattling
decades old plastic and metal
moan in protest.

the car shudders once,
before going still.
you’re already in motion,
handing me gold and green.
a sniff from the source,
garners an astonished blink and wry smile.

i reach out, hands pressed to the vents,
hot air stings my chilled digits.
absentmindedly i bob along to the melody reverberating,
the metronome of synthesized bass marks seconds ticking by

seat cranked two notches,
you fill the base, water kissing the down stem
in a sensual embrace.
instinctively my wrist twists
metal teeth grinding down
milling verdant flowerets.

with a rubbery pop the passenger door opens
frigid midwestern air rushes in,
and just as quickly,
you’re here.

a flick of the thumb commences,
our age-old tradition.
a primordial beast awakened.
soft orange leaps, igniting bits of bud.
lips ready, i suck deep and harsh

we’re giddy, eyes drinking in the rose-tinted world
childlike excitement bursting through our chests.
speaking carefully, scraping the surface.
savoring our time before the deep dive.

and opaque white fills the chamber
like an accordion: expansion and depression.
plumes ooze from flared nostrils
a cloud forms, low and striated,
shades of grey and white swirling.
an atmosphere of our own creation.

we’re on the hunt, cruising our Marauder’s map
so many places to choose from:
a semi seedy apartment complex,
a neighborhood tucked in for the night,
or a quiet business with little traffic.

my mind settles into a pleasant hum.
limbs stretched to capacity,
eyelids hang at half-mast.
our mouths both wet and dry
we grin, crippled by laughter.
red rimmed eyes crinkled in delight

somewhere public but not too public.
a few orange yellow lampposts hang low,
other vehicles rest in neat lines,
a perfect location to disappear and be seen.

every nonessential idea born in our mind,
revered and celebrated
no attention paid to finesse or foresight

a utopia

it’s in these quiet moments
2am with glitter falling from the sky,
that roots take hold.

precious bloom

is it good for you? 
i want you to have the best,
think the best of me.

is it selfish,
what if your perfect
isn’t with me?

the thought evokes 
the recoil and sting
of a sub zero slap 
to the red hot emotion 
growing tender tucked behind ribs

i want you to think of me
as a skyscraper,
physically elevated as 
you are in my eyes.

i’m not used to:
jittering nerves,
laying disarmed
bare 
before you.

jaw grinds enamel to dust
bracing for rejection
it’s easier to comprehend

the thought
that you could feel for me
what i may feel for you.

a terrifying prophecy
in it’s inevitable coming 

yet

an errant part
hopes, 
knows?
you like me, 
like i like you.

simple 
(complicated)
as that 

gangrene

you spend life floating,
drifting aimlessly among the
stratosphere
alone.

the masses below you
blissful,
souls tethered to something
you’re not

so you watch,
and assimilate

it’s a vice.
weaving through society,
fabricating emotions
sewing phantom threads
puncturing your fabric
stitching over color

it’s lonelier down here.
surrounded by people
you can’t be yourself around.

everyone is oblivious,
my synthetic flesh
stretched
too tight around bone.

you’re not one of of them.
(more importantly)
they’re not one of you.

when you’re insane,
everyone else is.

so you reflect inwards,
counsel yourself

after all
who would understand,
better than you?

life is given.
an immaculate conception,
birthing two personas.
distinct and deliberate,
rapidly swelling entities.

your body now houses a trinity.

three different recollections exist
within the same gyrus.
and each believe their memories to be,
a holy doctrine.

three sides
and the truth.
what’s real and what’s fake
who’s to tell?
you?

yourself disagrees.

the solace your mind,
your only source of candor,
lies in waste at your feet
pillaged and burned

by their
(your)
righteous hand.

it’s the straw,
your systemic annihilation.

you’d think it remarkable.
(if you were capable of ironic thought)
a masterly crafted strategy
stunning in it’s formulation.

you trace the cool handle,
steel retribution.
the smooth slide of lead
into a divisive cylinder.

who would know you best,
inside and out?

a series of clicks mark the
resounding entombment
into the chamber.

each white knuckled shame and
petal soft hope and dream?

it ends the way it began
with a bang.

the bullet burrows through your skin,
past your skull,
into your corrosive mind
out the other side and,

quiet.
at last.

psychosis

i don’t know when it started 
the divide,
murky where once crystal.

my subconscious spills,
viscous and prismatic,
dreamscape oozing into my cerebrum.

crucial mechanics are compromised.
my brain sputters and shudders,
perception irrevocably stained.

yet, worry eludes me.
thus it spreads.
a cancer,

feeding slowly but surely infecting every system.
spiral staircase cracked and bleeding,
a systemic annihilation.

what do you do?
what do you do, when you can’t trust yourself?

every thought questioned,
​every moment scrutinized.

blood thunders a beat against my ear drums,
a symphony of insanity

hurting through a kaleidoscope
shapes and colors blur past: hypnotizing, consuming
time slows, suspended in warm orange
desperately i reach, grasping at a lifeline, 

the last pure tendril of my mind.
i feel the certainty of my mind
one last time
my fingers slip
i succumb.

c-bus

a beat and a thrum of energy
burst through the veins of the city,
beautiful murals lit with every color imaginable.
quiet buildings hold small worlds on their brick
the droste of it all, entices and hypnotizes.
 
​street lights shine with opportunity.
diamonds hide in the glittering streetlights.
golden pathways bustle with laughing bodies.
love blossoms in the couple’s clasped hands.

old cinemas spark with new perspectives.
voracious dream chasers,
breathe life into visions only they can see.
ingénues mumbling out their lines
the technicolor pulsing within all of us.

it’s young, up and coming.
the makings of a bustling metropolis.
exposed steel spines of buildings
orange and white striped progress

legs limber in their buoyant stride
a nest of happiness in the balls of my feet
lungs swell to take it in, 
smelling of living creativity

my city

golden years

the worn fabric of the couch tangles through my ringed fingers. 
cologne of college rampant in the air:
stale chips and pretzels, spilled beer, the acidic tinge of vomit tickling my nose.
the cologne of college.

clouds of insecurity: crackling, rumbling
in warning,
a thunderstorm of bad decisions fester and brew,
jolts of electric sexuality strike dancing bodies  
the pressure to be, turns benign vapor to lead 
suffocating.

i watch my friends:
skin flushed, flashing coy grins and saccharine giggles,
a siren’s song to the frat bros leering hungrily,
examining the display ass and tits
bartering with the butcher.

i feel sick.

legs quaking, i step forward
tempted by the beckoning moonlight. 
breaking free from the throng
onto the halcyon of the balcony,

i breathe.

the fresh scent of transitional autumn:
decomposing earth and fallen leaves.
whispers of crisp wind caress my chafed body,
coaxing gooseflesh along my arms.
the night sky twinkles overhead,
ripe with the epitaphs of dead stars.

i sigh, leaning against the chipped metal fence
heels slot comfortably between rusty rails,
and i watch the party through the polarized glass.
actors and actresses preform
a cliché d-list script,
set in an anywhere town

the distance between them and me,
feels astronomical, insurmountable.
i am unable to bridge the gap,
barred from the adolescent popular culture.

the show comes to a close
and as the lights dim to nothing,
i see a reflection,
trapped in the black mirror of the screen.

a girl looks back at me,
dark pupils

begging.

i reach forward, bringing the shivering child into my arms.
i tell her what i know she needs to hear:
that she’s normal, and not broken.
that who you are and the things you like aren’t weird.

you may feel alone now, an outsider looking in,
but you will find your people, and your place.
somewhere comfortable, where you fill the space,
not where you force yourself to fit.

i know her pain, her hurt.

i know because she was me.

queen of egypt

such a short time we have known each other.

i remember how you were,
skittish, scared of your own shadow.
you held on to the past
like the rings of a tree, your history pressed into each layer of your skin
things you can never tell me, and i will never know.

you are like a diamond: 
a royal cut, bright and reflective, full clarity like your heart
slowly, you started to unfurl, 
the little sliver in a pistachio
my fingers twitch, a helpless desire to touch 
i hold back, if only not to scare you away. 

you watch me, months at a time, like the great sequoias tree
then you reach out to me,
determination and steel
and trust me.
you are my savior
we rely on each other, a beautiful cosmic dance of yin and yang

a push,
a pull.

and i can only hope that i leave half the impression you left
you the wet sand, 
and me a print 
before the oncoming tide.