I AM I: The Baggies

I know it was stupid of me to work outside today, and should’ve checked the sky and see if it was still mourning the loss of the world. I stepped into puddles and allowed its shit to rain over me anyway. Besides, who else is going to lug those maggoty baggies into the cauldrons? I don’t see God doing it anytime too soon, especially when the damned fires took longer to kick in and the corpses slower to disintegrate. The flies are only interested in making my chores more miserable. Bastards!

Does God care that I almost did a Russian-Roulette this morning over weak coffee, tasteless bread and stale gossip? I know Mickey’s Dinner has a reputation to uphold but honestly... Luckily, I had the ole Lotto Cat to reassure me. Its numbers promised a better tomorrow.

Lunchtime was a better impression. I ate acrid bagels whilst watching the usual bird silhouette picture and its soars through the grey skies with an impression of ease. I debated whether it cared to see colour again. The debate left me hollow and saw the bagels creating Jackson Pollack impressions on the floor. I decided to leave the artistic mess for tomorrow. No one’s going to care.

So for today, I go to sleep grateful to God for my survival. I suppose I should say the prayer for today’s dead.

“God above, give these baggies rest in peace, and hello to Michael J.”

Peace out.

Written using a prompt from Clarity of Night

Rage. Primal Justice.

Solemn was the vibe from the cathedral bell. A hideous tone, which threatened to shatter the stained glassed images of the worrisome maiden ordained in moonlight, her modesty flowering the world with twilight and promises of peace.

Truth. There is no peace for the forsaken doomed by dark magic and the tyranny of the waning moon. My jaw tightens at this injustice. I still remember that fleeting moment, which scratched away all that I valued and loved, and replaced them with primal rage.

Rage. I feel it now as a high pitched squeal turning my stomach, teasing my strength, constricting my muscles, thumping against my ears; the fire in my soul boiling my blood. I feel the call of the now, invincibility and justice. The urge uncoiling my claws. Time to bite life. The woman will worry no more.Smash – her luminous eyes are gone with one swipe of my paw. Through her hollow eyelets, I see the horizon of twinkling lights and inhale the stink of musk, rotten offal disguised within floral scents and lolly-pop flavours. “Filthy, ripe, tasty.”

The earth grumbles as I jump up and smash my way through glass and race for the horizon. New smells reels me forward: iron, musk, wet earth, savoury meat. My bones tingle with raw energy and a mixture of agitation, excitement, nervousness and fear. They know I’m coming. Not even the night winds whipping my skin can hold me back. I will have my justice. I will dine and be complete.

“Grr!” I bellow my greeting and crash to the ground amongst a confused and panicking crowd. Pitiful cries and sobbing pleas rush through my ears. “Ugh – suffer my rage!”

A stupid creature scurries across my path. With one swipe, I scoop it up and crush its weak body; breathe in its cologne of criminal power behind cowardice. Justice is served fresh.

The moon crowns my head as I tear off its twitching arms and suck up slick metallic juices: peel of bits of cloth and crunch through bones – sighing as the taste of life gradually calms my rage. Soon, the bones are licked clean and carelessly discarded along the marred pavement. Now I feel whole and want to discover the world.

Injustice returns as a wet blanket, which wraps my body. Suddenly, I can’t stand and drop to the ground.

The night falls to an eerie quiet and the moon turns it light away from me. My skin burns with a raw, intense ache; splits and falls away. I struggle to rise but my muscles tighten so much I’m unable move. My mind swoons, nausea grips my stomach, the world spins into a mess before it fades to darkness.

The sun is scorching the earth when I wake. I’m human amongst bones and smells of last weeks meals decomposing around me. Ironic, in the foulest pit of humanity it’s where I’m the safest.

Why Being A Pussy Is Stupid

A poem/prose about being the point 3.
The man of your dreams walks towards you.
You’re too shy to meet his gaze.
Your best friend steps out to meet him; good intentions of course.
She ends up his girlfriend.You watch them play.
You carry their bags to the beach while they frollick amongst the waves.
You see them dance underneath the moonlight, whilst swatting mosquitos on your skin.

They think it’s cool you’re their friend.
The man has no idea.
Secret longings of the heart stir up anger.

Anger festers.
It plays with ideas.
Knives.
Car burns.
Wrong prescriptions.

You watch with narrow eyes the relationship bloom.
You turn away every man that isn’t him.

Darkness gathers.
A storm is near.
You stand in the rain watching them from their loungeroom window.

Wanting.
Waiting.
Planning… Time is near.

You go home, thinking of what to do and what needs to do.
You wake up in the morning deciding not to do any of it.

Your friend calls unaware and annoyingly perky.
The phone call is disconnected midway conversation.

You vent on a PS2
Watch Lara Croft kick ass and wonder why it’s so easy for her to get the guy.

Then you realise…

You’re such a dumb ass pussi.
He’s just a man.
She’s just a woman.
You’re wasting time.

You get up. Get dressed. Loose weight. Get a life.
You find a man. Get laid. Kick him out and regret what you did.

Darkness gathers.
You stand in the shadows.
Why me?
What did I do to miss out?
Then you realise…

You’re such a dumb ass pussi.

You should’ve been the one to take a stand.
For what you believe,
For what you enjoy,
Not because you wanted to get over and get even.

Stop being a dumb ass pussi – Girlfriend.

Farewell

I entered a new place with fresh eyes.
I lived with great friends.
We shared joys and discussions.
We went silent now and then.

Time moved in slow paces.
The place drifted into a region;
I moved into another.

Air went stale.
Shades of colour lapsed into sepia tones.

I knew this was now the moment to move on.

It’s been swell my friends.
You’ll be in my heart forever.

New colours call to me.
A drive for new adventure.

Let us celebrate this one last time, enjoy and remember.
We can always look back and say hello.
Farewell is never the end.

Something Hurts

Numb.
It starts.
Sharp, stabbing pain; a reminder.

Do you let go?
Is it too late?

The moment of nine months, waiting.
Now fear squeezes your womanhood.
Throbbing pain; torments and screams.

Shards scratch the surface of the mind.
… erratic thoughts… crushed vision.

Pain! The Pain!

Want to give in!
Not ready for this!
Not fair!
Not right!
I will crush a dream and see it burn!

Pain and fear restrict every muscle until you move.
Screaming – burning – crying – all gone from thought.

Stabbing: jab – jab – jab – jab… UGH!

Wails pierce the air; a tiny shrill outside your voice.
The stabbing stops.

Numb.

Warmth.

Peace.

Confusion.

It’s now time to let go?

A wriggling bundle drops into your weary arms and you realise…

The pain wasn’t long enough, but the joy of a new life lasts forever.