A quick mess

My mind is bruised, I think

Haunted and decrepit and creaking, dark things flitter about in the dusty corners, memories roaming with a life of their own. It’s not my mind, as much as a symposium for all my hopes and fears.

Sometimes I have to look in the mirror, to make sure this head is mine, this body is not rented, and this life has been bought and paid for. I’ll pinch myself to test wakefulness, and that I’m not just someone else’s daydream.

My heart is broken, I think

Ravaged as its been by time and tides, scratched and torn by so many wicked barbs, clawed and pummeled and spat upon. Or maybe that’s just self pity trying on all her pretty little dresses.

Color me in all the shades of martyrdom; bring me a great chorus of fallen angels. We’ll stomp and grumble and yell curses and demands at the ever widening sky. On the stony ground of indecisiveness and strife we‘ll huddle and lament the lack of opportunity.

My soul has lost its luster

It’s been soaked in tepid waters, dragged through the mud of betrayal, stained with anger and lies and all the evil things I’ve poured into it. It’s hard to see the light with the chains of doubt wrapped so tightly about your head.

Gather ‘round and look at the odd man with the odd little thoughts, cloudy mind filled with so much nothingness and drab; stunted steps covering little ground on a long trip to nowhere. Brittle bitter thoughts just contrivances that echo greater meaning but are no more than an angry whisper in the dark.

Tin Can

Each of us, in our own little box,
Each of us, longing for fulfillment,
Each of us, trying to break away from ourselves.
Each of us, alone in this world,

I live in a tin can, locked away with all the things I’ve ever done wrong, locked away with the scariest person I’ve ever met.

Me.

I roll back and forth through time, in the blink of an eye, in the time it takes a tear to roll down my cheek, in the time it takes to break my own flesh, to control one thing, something, that which I can stake my domain over,

Lost in the dark I wander about, my map in tatters, my eyes grown dim. Where is that boy who dreamed so sweetly? Where have I chased him off too? Where has he gone?

So wondrous where the days when time went uncounted; when life was laid out before me like a golden promise and a dare. The electric kiss of youth, and all the sights left yet unseen, and all the things yet unspoken, and all the horrors I was yet blind to.

I spend my time crafting rhymes, and hiding from uncertainty. I spin a yarn, with hope to disarm, the demons that yet beckon.

I can feel the sands of time, weighing me down, breaking the back of the pack mule overburdened. Is that someone knocking at my door? Is that death tapping so fervently on my tombstone?

Or is that just my imagination, run rampant, run amok, dashing about in a dervish, besieging my every waking moment?

How do you measure failure? Is it a lack of the materialistic? Is it the quality of life? Is it a dearth of whatever things you’ve locked too far away for anyone to see, held so precious and dear that they would consume you whole in their grasping need for attainment?

Or would you measure it in the simplest equation? Judge it truthfully, and scale it against your heart.

I stare off blankly, in the dark, on so many nights; wrapped up tight as anger, wrapped up and bound to stop the shaking that I can’t seem to control. Blindly I stare, in the dark, for hours on end, and the only sight, though my eyes scan the pitch so hard, the only thing I ever see;

Myself.

A moment in autumn

He traced his finger down the cool glass of the taxi cab window. It left a trail in the condensation that had collected there. He had been down this street before, almost always with her at his side. So many trips they had made down this very street. They would laugh and play like school children on their way home from an evening of wine and wild conversation, trips to their favorite places, shopping excursions to get her the new shoes she just must have. He smiled as the memories played through his mind.

He rested his forehead against the cold glass and looked out at the fogged over world beyond the window. Out there was brownstones and stores, people walking their clockwork selves through a clockwork world. So much time, and yet never enough it seems. He opened his jacket, loosened his tie. The cab rolled to a stop at a light. He looked out and saw a restaurant that she had loved. He smiled to himself as he remembered a dinner there. It had been a Christmas Eve a couple of years ago.

They had made plans to see her family out in the suburbs, plans that had fallen through at the last minute. He had worked late, had gotten home later than expected and they had missed the train they were to take out to her families home. She had been very mad as they stood at the ticket counter. Her smooth skin had bunched at her eyebrows, eyes narrow with frustration. He had apologized to her, and she had dismissed it as nothing, but he knew. He could see it plain as day. They had hailed a cab, maybe even this very one that he rode in now.

He had reached out and held her hand, but she had seemed distant. In his heart he had felt bad, but his ego got the better of him. Words were exchanged; loud pronouncements of self importance; of the job, of the family, of the need to earn, of the need to spend good time with loved ones. At a light, maybe even this light now, she had gotten out. She had looked at him with anger then, told him that she would walk home, that she didn’t want to get in the way of his career, or to bother him with the triviality of going to Christmas dinner. The door had slammed, and she had stalked off in the falling snow.

With a sigh he had paid the cab driver, maybe it was this same cab driver, and gotten out to catch her. A block down he caught up to her. He caught her and turned her to him, wanting to finish the fight. Tears rolling free, makeup running, she had looked at him.

“All I wanted was to show them how special you are to Me.” she had said.

All the air went out of him. His ego did the smart thing then and went away and hid. He threw his arms tight around her. His own eyes starting to glisten, he said “I’m so sorry. I didn‘t know”

They had stood, holding each other, letting all the small and insignificant things fall away with the snow. Two people, all alone on the bustling sidewalk, just the two of them together in the whole wide world. He kissed her tears, whispered her importance to him quietly, with love. He stroked her hair, and told her she almost ripped the door off the cab. She had giggled then, said that she was sorry for losing it, and what a wreck she must look like. He smiled at her, told her he would make it all right, would never let her down again.

She stepped into a corner shop to freshen up in the restroom, and while she was reapplying makeup and straightening hair, he had called and made a reservation at her favorite place, their place. He had made her promise to cover her eyes as he took her there. He remembered how she had squealed with glee upon arriving, thrown her arms around his neck and laughed. Later, after their meal, she had asked him how he had gotten reservations on such short notice. When he told her of the amount of money that he had promised to the maitre d', her eyes had gone wide, then she had smiled smugly.

“Maybe next time you won’t be so late.”

“You’re right, I won’t.” he had said with a smile.

The cab moved now as the light changed. The restaurant faded from view as did the memory. ‘Where had all the time gone?’ he thought. It was only yesterday it seemed, but might as well been a lifetime ago. Time had passed, and they had lead a simple life. She had expressed the want for children; he had thought it prudent to wait. Days and weeks and minutes and seconds, all that time ticking, ticking by.

He shifted in his seat, too warm in this cab with all these memories that played across his mind and heart. He chuckled remembering her excitement at a birthday, felt a bitter pang when the ghost of an argument replayed itself with a power that astounded him; such a frivolous thing to waste time on when there had been so many better ways they could have spent with each other.

But now she was gone. It wasn’t his fault, just the way life dealt a hand to you sometimes. Why had he been such a fool, why hadn’t he kept his promise from that night. He ground his teeth, fists balled in his lap at the thought. The cab made a turn, jostling him in his seat. Why had he been such a fool, why hadn’t he made her his wife. Why hadn’t he had children with her; "You be daddy, and I’ll be mommy." she had always sang to him as they cuddled snug in bed on Sunday mornings.

‘Dammit it all and damn me for being so selfish, for being such a fool.’ he thought. The cab hit a bad stretch of road, the roughness a manifestation of his mood, of his heart. He looked back out the foggy window, and dread filled him. All the anger melted away. Everything melted away but that stone sinking dread. ‘Almost there,' he thought, ‘Almost there and that will be that I guess.’

Tick tick tick, time marches on, sometimes you find yourself where you’ve journeyed to, and sometimes you find yourself way off course.

He ran through a checklist in his head as the cab moved down the last few remaining blocks, trying to block out the memory of how she had gone. How she had left him before he was ready for her to go. ‘Dammit, there you go again, being selfish.’ he thought to himself. ‘Got to get yourself together and be strong now.’

The cab pulled in front of the familiar building, the cozy old brownstone that they had called home.

He looked up at the building. He blew out a long pent up breath, paid the cab driver and got out. He pulled his over coat tight around him, made sure not to step in a puddle in his good dress shoes. She would have hated him tracking water or dirt into her home.

‘Just have to go in, handle this as best I can.’ he thought. ‘Don’t make this about me. Don’t make the same mistakes I’ve made.’

He stepped to the front door, rang the buzzer. The door opened and there stood her brother. A moment passed as the two men stared at each other quietly. He spoke first.

“Sorry I’m late, should have rode with you guys. Cabs in this city are so damn slow.”

“That’s ok Gary. We thought you may need a little time to get your head together. Come in, this is still your home.”

Gary smiled weakly, said “Thanks Josh. I guess it is, but it’s not the same with her gone.” Tears started to roll freely now. Josh put an arm around him, lead him in.

As the two men entered the living room, all of her family was gathered there. At the sight of a badly broken up Gary, her mother stood and walked over too him, arms wide.

“I’m so sorry.” Gary sobbed. “There’s so much I should have done different. So many things I should’ve told her.”

“Hush now.” her mother said, holding Gary close. “She may be gone, but she didn’t pass away lonely or unloved. She knew you were there with her up to the end. She knew Gary, she knew.”

They stood there a moment. Just two people, all alone in the whole wide world.

Pretty

Look and see, see what I found here, It's soft and warm and so inviting, it's beautiful and amazing and oh so pure, It looks at you with those cute little doe eyes, with cheeks like apples, with such soft lovely smelling hair, It will kiss you and caress, it will follow and worship, it will always stay so very, very near, It will fill your ears with rosy platitudes, build up your ego, never be contrary, never be a bear, Look and see at what I've found, saw it from across the room, She's the friend of a friend, a stranger, a puzzle to be ensnared, Such a future we could have, the times spent laughing, warm afternoons uncounted, gifts and dinners and holidays as far as the eye can see, What's that? Reality is setting in? What's that? Reality again? Oh that reality. Such a foul thing, with her truths and unkindness and petty arguments. With her falsities and harshness, always raining her judgements down on my parade. I can't hear the soundtrack anymore, is this movie over? But my scene is unfinished! We haven't gotten to that last kiss! The one I had written into the script. The one where the music swells and the girls in the theater swoon. I'll have to phone my agent! Demand a rewrite with the director! Stomp my feet and curse until I get a larger trailer from the producers! I will not be denied! This life is my movie! It is all I have in this world… Look and see, see what I found here, It's my heart, laying in pieces on the ground, It looks dirty and broken and tread upon, so many feet have come across it to pound, I don't think I want it anymore; think I want a new one that will astound, What's that? It's the only one I get?! But this one is useless and used up and should be cast into a garbage mound, Oh cruel fate, unkind world, you bitch reality, always coming back around after I've set my self spinning in a new direction, always back to this place, where the doldrums have such sway, grey is the color of sadness, grey is the color of my days, What's this, who's that? Did she just smile at me? Roll camera and call back in the director and all the other players in my cinema life, here's my stage, where's my lines! I live to love another day.

And sometimes I smile

I walk without a sound, no one to see my footsteps ring out, no one to hear the things on my mind, Grey skies over head, here comes that familiar graceless thing, the one that makes me phone at 3 in the morning, the one that makes me sob at laundry detergent commercials, the one that makes me bury myself in complete obscurity, Sometimes the sun comes up, bright and round and full of the promise of a new day, Sometimes the sun comes up, bright as a knife and burning, beating down on my head with all of her vicious fury, time to go back to bed, These things that play out, the ones I cannot share like some ribald old joke, these are the things that color my opinions, put lines in my face, weigh down on me like a burden, The uncounted hurts, the timeless pains, the things that make me feel forsaken, Funny you should ask, but doesn't this joker smile, doesn't he wave and canter and play at being a fool, isn't his heart filled with such joy and merriment, quick with a joke, quick with solace that runs like honey, so clever and witty, so warm and caring, Honey comes from the bee's that sting, silk from the spiders that feed, pretty flowers from poisonous plants, beautiful pelts from the tiger that will consume you, In my mind, I see a man, seated at a table painted white as a snow bank, He sits in a room, clean and pure and calm, the walls shine pure, dazzling ivory fresh, white as a snow bank, His suit is magnificent, superbly tailored and fashionable, fit to perfection, white as a snow bank, His hands lay palm down on the table, well manicured, the skin flawless, wrists sheathed in his shirt cuffs, white as a snow bank, And he is screaming, screaming as loud as he can, throat raw, veins bulging, eyes wide and crazy, I see this when I close my eyes, I've seen it for a long time, sometimes it worries me, And sometimes I smile.