Colorless Canvas

I am a canvas.

Always taking on other colorful personalities, but never truly finding one of my own.

The relationships I make.

The friends that fade away.

They are all due to the ever revolving changes of my painting.

When I was young I found comfort with the girls, a soft pink.

As I grew up I knew I had to bond with the boys, so I took on a bashful blue.

My pre-teens, a rageful red of self discovery that tried to blend the pink and blue.

A strong purple bond with my parents started to fade.

I conformed to what those around me were doing.

I didn't want to stand out but fit in.

The teens were especially hard.

This was the time my peers took refuge in relationships, a velvety red.

I tried to blend in by following my heart.

Unfortunately my loins did not follow suit.

Early twenties seem to be a cause and effect of throwing every color on to the canvas creating a blur of dark ugly colors.

To start fresh, I removed all of the current colors and wiped the slate clean.

The white began to bloom into a lush of neutral colors.

A midnight blue was introduced but soon dissipated.

Neon colors splashed and soared.

No matter how colorful the painting, parts of white always shined through.

Soon the dark colors resurfaced and the picture became another blurry mess of reds, blues and black.

Finally I found that yellowy orange that helped me become the person I am today.

Now I live my life according to my own colors.

Careful not to mix too many pallets to create the mess I used to be.

Hot Summer Night

The wound up toy soldiers of yesterdays
have proven to be thinking of only the future.

They kick and sputter
as Dad stone washes the patio and yells at me to move.

I'm in my overalls and play barefooted.

He threatens to spray me with the hose,
so I move my army to the grass.

I let the plush grass settle between my toes before a single blade cuts my heel.

I remove it and watch as a single drop of blood tears from my skin
and lands in the palm of my hand.

My eyes start to roll to and fro
and my lungs exhaust all of my oxygen.

When I wake,
I find myself in my bed.

Mother has turned on the spinning kaleidoscope of stars I use as a night light.

I am blanketed and tucked tightly under the sheets.

Next to me lies Teddy.

I hear screaming from the other side of a closed door.

The light peaking around the door frame calls to me but I am pinned in so tightly, I couldn't move if I wanted to.

I hear a loud BANG.

A sound not like the one that comes from the Pillsbury dinner rolls when they are opened from their canister.

The light around the door frame flickers and becomes obstructed.

I close my eyes and fold my hands in to prayer position.

I hear my father crying, but I keep my eyes closed.

For a moment I feel something warm and steel press against my forehead, but I keep my eyes tightly shut.

The steel object is replaced by a kiss from father.

He exits my room, sniveling.

Once my door is shut I peak under my eyelids.

The room is empty.

I stay up all night waiting for him to come back.

Afraid to leave my room in case he does.

But he never returns.

That Summer

Most summers were scorchers , but this one proved to be especially humid.

We took refuge in your parents Ford explorer and hit the road with nothing but a bottle of scotch I lifted from my uncles liquor cabinet and two Tangy taffy's. 

Blue Raspberry for you.

Grape for me.

You would devour yours, but I would savor the tangy flavor while cruising to one of your classic rock mixes. 

The open road was the only place either one of us felt free.

We'd roll the windows down as the sun began to set in the distance.

You'd laugh at me, while I hung half my body out the window.

I'd close my eyes and scream at the top of my lungs, while you honked the horn and stuck your middle finger out the window.

We'd stop at Le Duc's, the towns best kept secret for frozen yogurt.

You, the flavor of the day in a cone.

Me, vanilla in a dish.

You'd give me a hard time for always getting the most boring flavor.

I'd scoop some on to my finger and wag it at you.

We'd both take turns eating it.

You'd take a large bite from your cone and rub it all over my face.

An ice cream fight would commence, while the townies flashed us dirty looks and pity.

 On the way home, you'd switch to your nostalgic mix as the sun fully set.

We'd sit in silence staring up at the twinkled sky.

You'd pull over to the side of the road and cry.

I'd focus on the night sky and ignore you.

You'd take me home and I'd get out of the car without saying a word.

You'd flash the brights.

I'd turn and dance in front of the headlights.

You'd turn up that old Aerosmith song and I'd do a little dance for you.

You'd watch, forming a smile.

My aunt would stumble out of the house, hollering at me, but I'd keep dancing.

She'd grab me by the arm, but I'd fight her off and scream in her face.

You'd start to get out of the car but I'd jump back inside before you could.

The tires would spin out on the gravely driveway as we drove off.

I'd down the rest of the scotch and throw the bottle out the window toward my aunt.

Before I see if it hits her, you'd let out a ye-ha.

You'd look at me and run a finger across my cheek, but I'd move away and try hopping out of the car before you could stop.

The cornfields were my sanctuary.

There, I could lose anyone.

You called my name, but I would lie still so you couldn't find me.

I stayed there until I heard you drive off.

I wandered, listening to the night bugs and wind.

A shooting star glistens across the sky, but I don't believe in wishes.

I finally reach an old birch tree in the middle of an open field. 

I climb to the top and finally make that wish.

The night air has cooled.

I am home.

Taxi Cab To Hell

I am leaning against a stop sign in the freezing cold, trying to hail a taxi. 

At least four taxi's have passed me as I drunkenly fumble with the wrong end of a cigarette. 

Slush from the cars, destroy my worn leather boots.

Pieces of tobacco litter my mouth.

The cigarette falls into the street.

I swear and crawl into the street to retrieve it.

An approaching cab, lays on a the horn and floods the scene with its high beams.

I pocket the cigarette as he screams out his window in jibberish.

I ask him if he's vacant and he agrees to take me in.

I slide into the backseat and tell him my address.

The overpowering incense and smell of Funyons makes me gag.

The loud screeching and clanging of middle eastern instruments on the cabbies radio grabs my attention.

On the seat next to me a purple capsule rolls back and forth.

I take it between my fingers and examine it.

My phone begins to vibrate.

The screen reads DEBBIE.

I decline the bitches request and crack the hard exterior of the capsule.

I let its inside dissolve on the tip of my tongue and close my eyes.

There is a hint of watermelon and blood, but I don't care.

The Pakistani Cabbie barks at me about something but all I can hear is his music.

It seems to get louder every time his mouth opens.

The barrage of instruments starts to fade out as horns and a disco beat picks up.

I suddenly feel as if I've been transported into the finale of the movie Xanadu.

The cab stops and is overtaken by 80's chimes.

The song "CherChez Le Femme/Se Si Bon" by Buzzard's Original Savannah Band begins to play.

I begin to sweat profusely but laugh uncontrollably. 

The driver turns toward me.

It's Olivia Newton-John but she does not have a face, just an upside smile.

The backseat doors open by themselves and a crowd of people pile into the seats next to me.

I watch Olivia begin to fade away as the front of the car moves further and further away.

The cab has transformed into a stretch limo, but keeps its tacky interior of torn black leather seats and reek of bad incense.

My new occupants are dressed in their best Studio 54 clothes and being to disco on a multi color dance floor in the middle of the cab.

They beckon me to join them but my legs have stopped working.

I pick one leg up and let it fall to the floor.

It starts to melt.

I do the same with the other, but it produces the same result.

Suddenly I am just an upper torso.

A cocktail waitress approaches with two mechanical legs and screws them into my body.

I wince at the temperature of the steel, but otherwise feel no pain.

She tells me to stand.

When I do my body floats toward the dance floor, but glides right over it.

Everyone below waves and cheers.

Attached to my back are two giant Victoria Secret style wings that flap and carry me around the club.

I have no control over them, but the feeling of weightlessness invigorates me.

A naked girl with extremely long hair rides into the club on a horse splashing everyone with glitter.

She too has no legs, but fins.

She smiles at me and blows me a kiss.

I watch the floating kiss coming at me like a long exhale from a cigarette.

It hits me hard on the cheek, causing my wings to explode.

I fall to the ground and watch as the entire nightclub is filled with white feathers.

The crowd goes crazy, as they dance in the snow-like scene.  

A video of Debbie is playing on the ceiling of the club. 

She smiles and winks at me.

I wave and she waves back.

When I reach out, her eyes widen in horror.

The video glitches and fades.

I scream out to her, but couples surround me on the dance floor closing off my view of her. 

A woman's clunky heel steps on my stomach slicing into my body.

She turns to me and winces, trying to shake me off, but eventually removes the show and slaps me in the face.

I hold on to the heel and try pulling it out, but it is stuck.

The club begins to empty as the song nears its end, but I can't stand. 

My mechanical legs are gone.

Water fills in through the cracks in the floor.

I begin to drown but can move my body again.

I tug at the high heel in my stomach.

I pull it out.

The large body of water begins to drain inside me.

Memories flash before my eyes, blinding me.

I can't breathe.

I try to open my eyes, but they are being raped with bad thoughts.

When I finally open them I realize I am face down on the edge of my bed.

Home.

I roll over and touch my legs, then my stomach.

Everything is in tact.

My room looks like it has been ransacked.

I remember the purple capsule and let out a sigh.

I sit up, but the pressure in my head is too much, so I lie back.

When I do, a white feather flitters off my mattress and dances above my head.

My radio alarm switches on. 

"CherChez La Femme/Se Si Bon" plays.

As It Falls

That old familiar voice entrances the room.

I flip open that old beat up cigarette case and remove one of its sleek brown cigarillos and light the tip.

I lean back in that rocking chair you always hated and kick my shoes off with my feet.

When I close my eyes I feel your spirit here with me.

You'd tell me to get off my lazy ass and put that cigar out so we could dance.

I'd pull you on to my lap and brush my fingers across the exposed part of your shoulders and breath in your intoxication.

Tilting your  head back, you'd kiss my chin and pull me to my feet.

We'd sway to the beat as the rain pelts against the windows.

The lights would dim.

We'd light some candles and wedge them into some empty bottles of wine.

You'd take a drag from my cigarillo and stamp it out on the coffee table.\

When we spin I notice in the mirror on the wall, that I am swaying alone to this sad track.

I don't cry.

My tears have dried up.

Instead I take a seat back in that chair you hate so much and re-light my cigar.

Finally, a smile.

I miss you my dear.

It gets harder every day.

A Place In Hell

The ash falls to the sky,
as we stare up at the falling stars,
and wonder where life has gone.

The future's dim,
but we manage to entangle our hearts,
and smile while the earth falls.

This wonderful creation,
has drove some apart,
but mostly those who anticipate kindness.

So we march on,
smiling and grasping each others hands.

Living,
loving,
learning.

The mundane,
the hopeless,
the ever increasing hope.

Observing the ones that fall to their knees,
begging and pleading with life.

The most beauty we can experience is the hurt inside ourselves.

To rise up from it.

Phoenixes,
cursed to live out the same infinity.

Sometimes with optimism,
but mostly to learn from our previous mishaps,
and rise once again with no memories of these mistakes.

I'm Falling Free

I stand here on this ledge, staring down at the moving cars below. 

I don't move, but stand completely still, outstretching my arms above my head as the wind blows.

My body sways back and forth, but I continue to hold complete control and balance, as my hair blows slightly in the wind.

I can't get this Scissor Sisters song out of my head.

Behind my eyelids I see my lovers face smiling at me.

Suddenly this memory turns sour and he is old and sick.

My living parents fade away and this fantasy shows me left alone to rot as the world speeds up.

No heirs or living decedents.

Death takes over my major bodily functions, but refuses to claim me as a victim.

I become a corpsely shell locked in a facility where people poke and prod at me, to make sure I am still breathing.

My days are confined to a rocking chair I can't move.

The lone survivor, lying in soiled sheets, trying to remember better days, but those too have left me.

I open my eyes to the present and squint from the blazing sun overhead.

Behind me I hear a cry of voices shouting for me to step back.

I ignore their cries and smile.

All of the anxiety.

The societal pressures.

The let downs.

The grieving.

The loss of loved ones.

In the back of my mind I can already see the headlines.

"Suicidal...depressed...bipolar."

None are true, but there's no good way to explain to someone when you're complete.

I am taking control of my life and have come to the conclusion that I have everything I have ever wanted.

A beautiful and healthy family, partner, dog. 

A job, mortgage, and friends.

I have seen the world. 

Been to many great concerts, plays, and met incredible talent through and through.

I have written my unpublished opus.

Laughed, cried, dissapointed some, been pleasantly surprised, danced, sung, instructed, learned, exceeded expectations and failed.

There is nothing left that I wish to experience.

Feelings of satisfactions, rather than emptiness.

I am not depressed or unhappy, but fulfilled.

So I lift my head to the sky and lean into my destiny.

A million memories flash before my eyes.

It is mere seconds before the impact, but I feel tears of joy escape from my eyes before the darkness takes hold.

Now the real journey begins.