Hunting For Sharks' Teeth

I shuffled across the embracing surface
Of ten million crystals
Stained by sea shells here and there,
The resilient shine of an impossibly
Thin layer of water
Was brighter than the sun could bare.

And as I stepped toward the ocean
The water condemned my
Vulnerable toes
To a frigid fluid jail of temporary woes.

To the left I spied a prize and
Within I felt a joyous laughter,
But I cast the fiend into the depths
For impersonating what I was after.

I kept trudging parallel to the mighty
Water's thrashing force,
Still in search of the thing I had not found.
Time again I'd let my feeble mind
Be tricked into deceit,
As the ocean continued to cyclically pound.

And to this day I have not in my
Possession that prize of my
Happiest dreams.
Imposters fill the beach I walk
And with fake facades the
Water teems.

Perhaps someday I'll satisfy
My single, sole desire.
Until then I must keep the sea from
Putting out my passion's fire.

Status Quo

You came from modest, humble backgrounds.
Of course, all the moguls do.
Your climb to the top took many a'years
of blood, sweat, tears.
You forgot to mention deceit, treachery, betrayal-
How kind of you to censor out the truth from your own lie.

But what goes up must plummet into chaos,
And when you fall to your wonderfully tragic denouement
And land face-first in the dirt and remains of all whom you have tortured,
Remember this:
That the world will not topple with you,
But rather sit on your throne and cackle
As you have fallen back into the orbit of mediocrity
To fulfill the destiny promised to us all:

"From ashes you came,
To ashes you will return."

And so you have.

From the Muse

You consume yourself with thoughts

Slowly, Slowly sipping the poison

Of degenerate creativity.

I see you and your vacant cries.

Your hopeless attempts to philosophize

A world that you take no part in.

Tell me how many hours you are alone

Each passing day, merely thinking of the soft

Slope of my features and the poignant

Symbolism of all that I do. Immortalizing me

In song and line, using me as an escaping

Flight of air to fuel your suffocated soul.

You are the ever present shadow of logic

And rational dissection

Whilst I go on living,

Whilst you are apathetic

To the beating of your heart.

There was a time when in you I confided

my soul, my thoughts, my words.

Perchance the words that fell from

These lips like petals, you would

Find the flower to, for you

Are so much more contemplative than I.

Now I pity you, and your pathetic state

Of distance from all forms of living.

I tried with every muscle to pull you from

Your depths, but you have determined

Content with anxiety and medication

To soften the sharp blade of the knife

You plunge into your stomach again and again,

In the name of intellectual sanctity

And originality.

You refused my love,

For it was not the kind

That you desired.

Suffer in your bottomless well of

Dripping memories and moldy thoughts,

Those thought by old men before you

Who died in loneliness.

Plunge slowly into the water

Like a cold rock, weightlessly

Drifting into an abyss of thought,

Slowly driven mad

By himself.

Bloody Red Rose

You moved gingerly from
Across the room
Where your image haunted me
For the hours past.
Awestruck and breathless
I stood paralyzed in wait
For you to grace me
With your tantalizing presence.

And as you move the air parts itself,
Daring not to resist your motion,
So immaculate, so timeless.
And your hair flows delicate,
Following close behind a picture-perfect
Face smiling with sinister seduction.
I can't help but feel discomfort.

You clenched in your hand
The softest of roses
And said to me
"Relax, there is no need to fear.
I've set my eyes on you
And you're the sight they hold dear."

And with your witchy words
I took from you the rose which
You so enticingly extended to me.
And in that moment of brief contact,
Where your palm brushed so slightly
The tortured tips of my searching fingers,
As the rose fell into my hand,
I felt not a wave, but rather
A crawling, caring blanket of peace
Fall upon my heart.

Yet as soon as our hands did part,
That peace fled from my desirous soul.
That rose pricked my finger so,
And a tiny drop of thick, red blood
Fell slowly, silently, softly
To the floor.

The Wind

Too many moments spent

With fingers crossed, praying the

Breeze would shift in an easterly direction.

Oh sweet gaze, if only you knew.

Who is this person, stumbling amidst

My feet and tumbling senseless words.

I cannot speak for I am a dumbfounded fool

Trespassing an unknown ground.

If only I could know more,

For I know little of land or air.

How pointless it is, to wait for a cloud

To shift across the sky, with an absent wind.

So wait I will not. I will not hold my breath.

When gusts stir the air of my heart

With movement, I will feel

The air across my face,

Sweet contemplated bliss.

Clarification

Running down the boulevard
My mind escapes the scene,
I do not even notice
How the buildings madly lean.

My, the sun is bright,
I'm sweating salty sweat,
Don't know where I've traveled,
What I've seen or who I've met.

The past is such a blur
And the ground below isn't clearer.
What the hell is this before me?
Seems as though it's yesterday, reflected in a mirror.

I just can't find comfort
And I surely can't relate
To this redirecting road that
Always seems to dissipate.
I've been running too long
And I don't want to wait,
Won't someone please just
Take me to heated Hell's gate?

Then the sun burns out,
I'm dazed and confused:
I never really thought
It would ever refuse.

Then I realize
(And it was quite the surprise)
That the sun had never shone,
It was only streetlights' lies.

Now I'm left in the dark,
Violating, underrating, dumbly deviating,
Missing every mark.
I can't see and I can't hear,
Yet there is nothing,
Never was, anything to fear.

And now, now everything is clear.

If Only

It wasn't much.
Enough, though, to startle the butterflies
That were too long at rest,
Waiting to flutter nervously,
If anything just to prove there was still hope.

The spontenaity painted innocent smiles
On both our faces.
Light danced in your eyes.
Then the waiting commenced after the goodbye.
Excitement was brimming,
The plot did not sway,
Anticipation could not be quelled -

The worst was when I woke to find
It was only just a dream.

Todas las calles llevan a la Ciudad Eterna

Estaba caminando en la calle de
La ciudad eterna, siguiendo cuando
Vi que no había letreros para guiarme-
“¿Qué estaban los arquitectos pensando?”
Pienso. Y los viajeros caminan más, más
En ignorancia, pero son bastantes
Feliz aunque no saben, que está atrás,
Ni que está a los lados, ni adelantes.
No me importa que están haciendo ellos
Porque viajan como ovejas, yo solo,
Y solamente yo decido que me creo,
Así yo se adonde voy, y yo se como.
Realizó que estos no serían fuertes
Porque todas las calles van a Muerte.

Depth of Mind

I don't know it's not there,

it's been missing so long...

I can't find what I seek

If I don't know what's gone

And I can't settle down

when I feel it's not there...

Should I open my mouth?

Can I speak? Do I dare?

And I try, but believe me!

The path is not clear!

In the way are my demons...

and Darkness, my fear

Her gaunt skeletons haunt me,

and make no mistake-

when their joints start to rattle

my mind, my bones ache

in the show of companionship

she seeks to draw

from my heart; her

self-loathing leaves tender thoughts raw

and submissive. I wonder;

I'm desolate, yes...

and then hands touch my mind,

grasp my thoughts, and caress

my intentions; my plans

start to fade, and her touch

is persuasive; Simplicity's

pull is too much

to ignore; But lo!

Foresight awakens, confused,

and she can't see so far

that she's willing to choose

a direction; for who knows

where shadow-paths lead?

Her sisters in earnest

want judgement; they plead

She looks warily; Simple

and Dark seem too close

to comparison's comfort,

when they should oppose

In philosophy: but then,

who knows what is right?

We are one, though we

sometimes conflict and do fight

Now the three of them pause,

and as parts of the whole

they can sense someone's missing:

a key to the soul

Once they find her, they gather;

my Purpose, a heap

of mysterious beauty

and stillness...she sleeps

and until she awakens,

they won't know what's true

and just what (til I know how or why)

do I do?

Buses

God how I hate buses.

They are filled with the pulsing apathetic mass

Of ignorance and volume.

and so I slip into the salty waves of musical distance.

The cold waves of air do not chill, rather invigorate.

I am life, swaying in the sea of content.

The inside of these eyelids are dappled with light,

The bottom of an ocean floor, with memories

Colored bright and flashing their scales.

The shadows sway with the swiftly shifting trees

and familiar buildings above me, so far away.

You sing to me of love and how you will find me,

But my ears ring with pain and a need to escape

The bestiality surrounding me.

The speeding bus jumps over an uneven road,

My head hits the seat in front of me

My backpack falls into the aisle

And a pen strikes me in the nose.

Save me from the chaos.

Differences Disregarded

We all,
Every man, woman,
Short and tall belong to one name
That labels us the same.
It is inescapable: we are human.

And sure I'm a little different from you,
And you from him have a different skew.

Perhaps it's these discrepancies
That provide us with simple joys.
The variances from one to another
More amusing than technology's toys.

Yet what do they really matter,
Besides the obnoxious toxic chatter
Of this group about that:
What's wrong with her shoes and his hat,
He's too goofy and she's just a brat.

Everything is absurd, down to
Each
And
Every
Word.

There's just no point in emphasizing
Such a small differential.
What is wrong with maintaining
A mind that's existential?

After all there's nothing to lose
When nothing matters down the line.
Life is a complex prank,
And I've made it all mine.

Tabula Erasa

Reality goes pallid.
Someone once said that when you are reborn
you can see your breath
and gaseous spirit expiring
brilliantly
The sky is alight and shadows
are the only color.

Sound surrounds completely and
the light is mute. I can’t hear
what you are saying
I can’t hear
“Fear is the mind-killer?”
(but no fear resides here)
it won’t go, something surplus
disappear
and feel perfectly still…

Breath came and shone white
it refuses to leave
because nothing can move
I feel no attachment—liberation
The silent flow slows.

“Oh,”
says nobody. “Are you the monitor,
Death?”

A Grim Prediction

My stomach flips and turns
And twists and tightens,
The world we have created
Now only serves to frighten.

The days of old were bearable at least,
No man need worry of the social beast.
No one is free, nor specially fated,
Nothing different from the norm is tolerated.

For in times of old one need not fret,
Family and friends would support troubles and debt.
Even bandits in brotherhood would for the other fend,
Never to be taken alive, or see through to the end.

And now I see fickle friends
On which no one can depend,
They pose as supportive pillars,
Hiding their identity as cunning killers.

Wicked women under false facade
Feign affection to reach the point
Of a pole that's scratched and clawed.
And ruthless men of brutal force
Use brothers as pawns in their
Scheme to progress their course.

In this system I find no satisfaction,
And I'll have no distraction
From this violent reaction
To the immense amount
Of obscene infraction
Committed by
Brother, friend, partner, and peer,
In the way of disgust,
Of greed, of fear.

I am sick of living
In a world so fucking cruel.
When will we wake and
See that these are the actions of a fool?
At this rate, if this mentality
Fails to dissipate,
And deceit continues to thrive,
I tell you this and I tell you right,
No one will escape alive.

Old Papers

I went to visit you today. The sun had just dipped below the horizon of trees when this current tugged at my legs beckoning me to you. It might have been the cold wind. I’m sorry I don’t come more often, but after the trek to get to you I feel misplaced. There are no rules here, and the open space suffocates me. I am alone yet something hangs in the air, a stillness of everything being laid to rest, and I don’t want to interrupt the reverie of all who sleep here.

The truth is I’m afraid of you. I try to hide you away in a compartment in my chest, lock you away so I can get through the necessary evils of the everyday. If I let you out, I would certainly become overwhelmed with the waves and drown. I might get lost within the deep caverns and not find my way out. Acknowledging you means recognizing the pain of an earthquake, that’s so hard to do, you see.

I know the exact way to get to where you are, but walking towards you there is a hidden anticipation that maybe this stone won’t say your name. But it always does. The fake orchid is getting dirty now, I want to wash it off but I have no water. There are new tufts of grass growing around your gravestone and I don’t’ know how I feel about them. They spring up, uninvited, and make me think you are waving hello.

The words I say feel too loud for your peace, but you must hear them. You must know how I feel, for how many times did you not listen? Then no – I am selfish. Telling you my problems whilst you have none. Why should I lay my burdens at the foot of your bed instead of flowers, leaving you once again for months until I muster enough strength to throw myself your way?

The words I say do not feel like they are mine. They are spilling out of my mouth with the tears and these are the things I have dreamt about in those long lonely hours of solitude, when the desolation fills my stomach with an ache. These thoughts are those that are loosely packed away like old papers, they are ripped torn, yellowed and wrinkled. The ink is smeared, but I can still feel how the words are read. They say that I love you, that I am lost and confused. I am alone. I will live for you and do the things you could not. I promise I will not waste these few precious hours I have.

And then it is dark. I must go. And everything said feels like it was lost among the cool air; the sun stole my words away as it slipped over the edge of the world. Your name carved here, does not correlate with your face. In those last few moments they do. I see you laughing and then I see your name. And it all becomes one image. You are not here.

This is when time stands still, and every memory reels back and slams into my stomach. It has never gotten any easier. It has almost been a year, I thought it would go smoother. Maybe I would be able to look at your stone with resignation and acceptance. I always break just as much as the very first time, and I will always shed the same amount of tears. Your absence will never ease.

Sudden night does not scare me. The fact that I am a speck of light in this field of death does not make me feel small, merely surrounded. I left you as I would leave someone on the other side of a crowded room. I needed to leave, I needed air. I hope you understand.

Deadly

I have never known such pain.
This discontent, this disease,
Is slowly, surely, silently
Killing me.

Killing me.

I might as well be dead already.
For what I thought I could overcome
Has proven stubborn.
More so than the determination,
Dedication of the defense that
Supposedly protects
My internal stability.

I once held in my hands
The most gratifying
Thing hands can hold.
I caressed with care its
Soft presence there,
Each finger gentle yet firm,
Appreciating.

It has since slipped through
The cracks so slim and
Left me devastated
In despair.

What has not killed me
Has not made me stronger,
But rather sick.

Yet I cannot, will not, spite it.

Little Bird

Hey little bird,
I miss your chirp,
Your soft presence on the branch.

Do you, too, remember
How the sun would never set
On a day that seemed so perfect?

Without you this tree is bare,
And I can't find the strength to care.
I guess I paid my attention to only you,
And now I feel this tree I never knew.

I know that winter's come and
More than seasons have changed.
And if you flee from the cold the
Road I face will be estranged.

I cannot keep you perched inside
Steel bars, nor on my window sill,
The cruelty of your hindrance would
Be worse than to be left with just a quill.

So please little bird, stick around
Not far from my eye's reach.
The sight of your immaculate image
Is the only thing I can beseech.

Glassed Memories

Glass coated portraits of what has past,
Each conserved, from first to last,
They line the hallowed halls of my heart,
And from these sunken walls, they shall not part.

I walk by them each dawn and dusk,
And think my day but a light husk,
Of what these memories had been;
Will I ever live them again?

But what is this I have just heard?
Why surely your spent thoughts are blurred!
You can't forget these days now gone,
To toss away with but a yawn.

I should have known you'd let them pass,
I guess I should have used less glass...

My Greatest Regret: Act III

       What am I doing?

      My reflection questioned me from the mirror. I was looking down at the running stream of water flowing out of the faucet at a maddeningly constant rate. My hair hung over my eyes, palms down on the counter, elbows bent.

       A single drop of sweat traced down my forehead, trickled down my nose, and stopped abruptly at the tip. Time slowed down as cruel gravity gently ripped the bead of perspiration away from my face. The tumbling drop collided near the drain, the point of impact between porcelain and water, a furious frenzy, splashing and turning in all directions. The sweat, warm, became the cold rush of churning water, mixing, assimilating, now nothing. Nothing.

       I promptly twisted the glass knob behind the sink until the flow of water came to a dribbling, deafening halt. I raised my head, and my own eyes glared back at me. The clumped strands of hair flopped down in front of my face, as if to protect me from myself.

       I repeated my words. What am I doing?

       Standing in a cramped, smelly gym bathroom stall. All alone. At the school dance. That’s what I was doing. Somehow, I had convinced myself that I would enjoy this dance. I brought myself with the intent to please her with my presence, and now I was just standing in a damn bathroom.

       The faint, pounding bass was barely audible through the thick walls that separated me from the unknown. Every beat brought with it a painful reminder: Ellie was out there, expecting me. That is, if she had even arrived yet. Did she care enough about me as to look for me? Did she even care about me?

       I quickly raised my right fist up to my head, then slammed it down with all of my force towards the counter - but I stopped my hand in mid-air.

       I took a long, hard look and my hand, unclenching the palm, pulsing my fingers in and out. I observed the creases, the finest details, then abruptly halted, still intently watching my hand.

       I am human, I thought, then said it out loud. “I am human.”

       A sinister smile began to stretch across my face. “I am human,” I said, louder this time, with more expression. Someone walked into the bathroom. The flimsy door separating the stall from the rest of the bathroom flung open as I pushed it.

       I nodded at myself through the mirror and exchanged awkward glances with the poor child who had just entered the bathroom. This is my stage, buddy, I thought, as I passed him by. “I am human!”

       I kicked the bathroom door open as I temporarily left the white-tile prison. Nothing would stop me now. Nothing could stop me.

       Let’s go, baby. There it was, in all of its madness. The school gym, a former outlet for athletic activities, had become a dark, booming venue of raw energy and unbridled expression. The room was alive - people morphed into the walls, and the walls became nothing, for all was dark, and all was untamed.

       The teachers, including the strict Dr. C, lined the perimeter of the dance. They all shared a look of disgust and boredom. Dr. C haughtily held her head high, unafraid to make any student feel uncomfortable at any given time. I would do my best to avoid her.

       The mass of dancing students momentarily halted to let out a collective “Oh!” as the current song’s editors had not done their best work censoring.

       I grinned to myself. This could be fun - as long as I allowed myself to believe it.
---------------------

       Sweeney and I didn’t care too much for dancing. We were sitting at a round table near the refreshments, popping M&Ms in our mouths as we faced the pulsing crowd. Naturally, people-watching was our specialty.

       I sat pensively, hand supporting chin. Dancing was primitive, even animalistic. You had to throw all thought out of the window. I found it rather ironic that we dress up in our nicest clothes to jump into a hooting, fist-pumping horde of sweaty bodies. You see, I needed a reason for everything, but dancing... hell, dancing? There was no reason. It ceased to exist once the lights went down and the beat brought out a certain amount of savagery in all who participated in the gyrating aggregation. Everyone just told me to let go - whatever that means. The only thing I was holding on to was my sanity.

       Why did I people-watch? Because I was out of my element. Try telling a fish to stop flopping around when it’s out of water. Hint: it won’t. Reasons? First, it doesn’t speak English, or any human language for that matter. Second, it won’t give in until it’s dead. Lifeless. You’d have to alter my mind to get me to dance. Thus, I people-watched.

       So I thought as I watched. Ellie wasn’t there - or at least I hadn’t seen her yet. I had not actively searched for her, either. I’d prefer that she would find me. Either way, I wasn’t quite sure what I would do once I saw her. The whole environment of a big school dance was intimidating enough. I could picture it now - Ellie, the world-stunner, garnering undivided attention from gaping onlookers, radiating the dance floor with that smile. She would strut in here, surrounded by a wall of deceit, shifting her head left and right so that everyone could appreciate her heavenly features. I could never talk with her, much less dance with her, if those circumstances were anywhere near the truth. I never even really told her that I was going. How could I expect her to even consider my presence?

       “Whatcha thinkin’ about, Braden?” Sweeney for sure wasn’t dancing - I think he came to humor my self-interest. His arms rested on his knees as he turned his head to face me, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

       “I don’t know, man.” Lying, of course.

       “You sure? You’ve been awful quiet ever since we sat down.” He suddenly pulled back his cuff to check the time. “Damn, we’ve been sitting here for almost thirty minutes!”

       “Yeah, sure.” The air that escaped my lungs seemed to bear the weight of an anvil. “Doesn’t bother me. Don’t worry about it.”

       I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes.

       Sweeney’s eyes narrowed. He was clearly trying to get at something.

      “It’s about that girl, right? The one in your English class?”

       I hesitated. How did he know?

       ”Yeah,” drawing my voice out unhurriedly, “and how do you figure that?”

       “I’m your friend, Braden. I can tell. I mean - I know a bit about her.”

       I scoffed. “Yeah, like what?”

       “I don’t know. She seems like a pretty good person. She’s got a nice ass too-”

       “Shut up, Sweeney.”

       He chuckled, and avoided my hand, intending to push him off of his chair. “Is she here yet?”

       “Nope. Don’t think so.”

       “You gonna ask her to dance?”

       I lifted my arms in uncertainty. I drew in a deep breath. “Man, you know me. I don’t know, okay? We’ll see.”

       Sweeney eyed me suspiciously. “What’re you getting yourself into here, Braden? I mean, do you even know how many guys she’s been with?”

       I snapped back at him. “She’s different, Sweeney! She’s genuinely - a genuine person. I can tell - believe me this - I can tell! I - I -”

       “What is it?” Sweeney appeared surprised.
       “I really like her, man.” I settled down. “She’s not like all the others, okay? I can’t let her slip through my fingers when she’s practically in my hands!”

       Exasperated, I stood, shaking my head furiously.

       “Do what makes you happy, man.” He threw his hands up and leaned back in the chair. That’s what I liked about him most - his smug attitude, when appropriately displayed, was often amusing. His dull smile was taunting and encouraging at the same time.

       I gave him a subtle thumbs up. “Thanks.” I turned, then disappeared into the swirling herd in the dark, dark room.
-------------------------

        Surely, Ellie was here now. There was no doubt about that. It was 9:36 - middle school dances don’t go past 10:00. She was somewhere, immersed in the throbbing tornado of colors and noises.

        Surely, there was something that would make her stand out even more. Actually, I had overheard her talking several days ago to her friends about the dress she would wear. I don’t recall style, nor would I even recognize it - but the color was baby blue. Unfortunately, she was not the only one who believed that baby blue would be a nice color to wear. This was getting ridiculous.

        I pushed people aside as I searched - they never noticed, or cared, for that matter. My task was more important, more dire. My eyes frantically scanned the heads of the surrounding people. No use.

        A sixth grade boy’s elbow stuck me in the ribs as he was dancing. He apologized, but at this point, no apology would suffice. I reacted sharply. “Watch it, kid.” He was wearing a baby blue tie. What an ass. I would never find her.

        A brilliant blast of blue. “Hello,” I softly whispered. I patted the shaking sixth grader along, and he ran swiftly in another direction. I had found her. She was three bodies away, partially blocked by waving arms. But she was more visible than ever. Contrary to the scenarios I played over and over in my head, she was not dancing with another guy, but with her friends. She was lost in the song, eyes closed, moving her body to the rhythm. The stories were true - she was a dancer. Nothing less, and a whole lot more. This was her element.

        I could not approach her. Protected by a wall of judging girls, she was essentially untouchable. Oh, but I longed to talk. I longed to spend some time with her. Tonight. Here. Now. Not later.

        As she was moving her head to the music, her eyes opened for just a moment, but in that split second, they shifted in my direction.

        Oh.

Undoubtedly, she had spotted me. For a fleeting fraction of a second, she locked on to my eyes.

        No.

        The music stopped. She was too beautiful, too comfortable, and I too out of place, too nervous. The DJ announced, “Attention to all students of Landrum Middle School. This song is the last we’re playing here tonight. Stairway to Heaven - classic, Led Zeppelin. Grab a partner. Let’s go.”

        I scrambled to get away, darting between the confident and desperate, through holding hands. Seemingly everyone besides myself was looking for a dance partner for this one special moment - and I, like a timid little kid, was running away from what I wanted the most.

        I made a break for the corner where the bathroom was situated. The lights spilled from that hallway, beckoning as a safe haven. Suddenly a hand shot out, in front of my pathway. I looked at its owner. It was Dr. C.

        “Is it an emergency?” I bet you anything that this demented woman had probably found out that I disliked dancing.

        “Yes. I really need to go!” I expressed my hurriedness with little jumps and a swaying body.

        “Really?” Dr. C lifted one eyebrow and folded her arms.

        “Yes! Really!” I nodded my head quickly.

        I couldn’t let Ellie see me like this. Not here. “Dr. C... listen, please. I need to use the restroom.”

        “Okay.” She shifted her weight back and gestured me to enter to bathroom. “Too bad that you’re missing your last middle school dance, though.”

        I briskly pushed the men’s bathroom door open. I could hear the DJ through the walls: “Hurry up boys and girls. We’re about to start.” Now that I was safe, I began considering the regret. It’s only once you’re out of danger that you consider what could have been different. I would never forgive myself for this. I wanted nothing more than to become closer with Ellie, but I was the only factor separating me from her. My fear to take on the unknown held me back. I would never forgive myself.

        Then, unexpectedly, I discerned a soft, concerned voice speak out from beyond the door, most likely arguing with Dr. C about denied bathroom entrance. I inched closer to the crack in the door to hear them more clearly.

        The voices were faint, but just audible enough to make out most of the conversation. “Dr. C! Please! Why won’t you tell me?”

        Pain shot through my shaking abdomen. Ellie’s voice. Undoubtedly. I glued my ear to the wall. Stairway to Heaven had just started. She was there, for she had seen me. She wanted to share that moment with me. Oh, the irony!

        “Listen, honey. We can’t have people walking in and out of here.”

        “That’s not what I asked! Have you seen a guy walk into that bathroom in the last couple of minutes?” She cared! She loved me! But here, I was scared and useless. Now I was the goat.

        I could hear the determination in Ellie’s voice. “He’s...cute, curly, dark hair, kind of long, almost to his shoulders. I mean...he has a handsome face, he’s a couple of inches taller than me... are you sure you haven’t seen him?”

        Deep inside, I was screaming. She was desperately trying to find me. I wanted to burst through the door, I wanted to proclaim, singing from my weary lungs: I love you, Ellie! I love you!

        Yet I remained, shivering in cold sorrow. She was waiting for me. She had seen me. She was interested in me. But I, forever regretful, would never be there for her when she desired it the most.

        Some irritated words were exchanged between the two. An imaginary hand constricted my throat. I would hold a grudge against myself evermore. I gathered all of my strength, and opened the door, just a crack. My heart sank down to my feet and through the floor. I could see her from behind as she walked away. The bathroom tiles began to distort as I became entirely weak.

        She was gone. I slowly closed the door as I brought myself to the ground. I could pretend I was never here, but my conscience would know. I could tell her that I never came - but the desire in her speech indicated that she saw me.

        Stairway to Heaven continued, tugging at my insides and shaming me into another dimension. It was an eternity. It was the beginning of the end.

        I forced myself up and out of the bathroom and gathered most of my sanity. I watched the dance floor move back and forth. Ellie and I would never be together - and it was all my fault. The dancer lives for the moment and the poet lives for the past. She was my muse, my inspiration. Which of us would leave this life happier? I thought in silence, and the haunting pattern of notes in Led Zeppelin’s most famous song eerily provided a background to the turning point in my life.

        All I remember is how lovely she looked as she walked away into the impenetrable abyss of darkness.

The Maze

I am wandering this maze

Of torture inconceivable

Hoping that light might crack through these shambles

And filled with the strength of sun, break free

From the chains in which I would be inevitably cast;

The same that bound you.

I am under the cold unwavering microscope of the world

Placing bets, to see if I can find that god forsaken cheese.

Running, I am fleeing the umbre of my heart

But all I find are unending corners drenched in dark.

In that one sacred moment

I pause to understand this burden placed

Upon my back, to keep me cowering.

Now I know the true weight

So that I might shrug this eternal cower,

To unfurl the past, hold my colors high

Embrace the pain and surrender the lost

And stand ever so taller.

I tower over these walls of black and defy

The surprise in gambler's eyes.

I have found my way home

Out of this damned maze.

'Tis Time

I entered the shadow of
This forest long ago,
For the sun was wicked
And the wind was fierce.
These trees were an
Army I could crawl about,
Protected from all that
Would strike or pierce.

This forest, this haven,
This sanctuary laden
With swaying giants
Of gentle gesture,
Spotted with creatures of fur
As keepers of time and
Keepers of peace,
Was my place in the world,
Where disorder would cease.

Yet something has come
Over me which is hard to explain,
Like a subsidiary, indistinct pain,
For my nostalgic niche has
Become too familiar and plain.
Something is pulling on the
Strings of temptation, dragging me
Away with untold strain.

Perhaps I've been staring
At this tree too long,
And it is simply time to move on,
No place in particular, yet not unknown.

New forests await with
Greater reward,
Yet my loyal conscience
Is wholly abhorred,
How can I leave what
I've known for so long?
Is this not totally
And completely wrong?

In knowing the wind has
Shifted its course,
I must follow its lead
And feel not remorse.

Frigid

As of now, it all seems quite superfluous,

right? Can’t escape this pit you’re on the brink of

But beware: now I’ve said

because what lies ahead

bears more horrors than you’ve thought to think of.

As you stand, going through your unsnappable

doubt, know there’s something that you’re in the way of

And your feet, they stay trapped

in the frost, and are snapped

by the ache you won’t stand one more day of

So you stab and you pull, now you’re desperate

in fear, and her chains seem to tighten and burn!

You look up through the haze

now you gasp, feel the blaze!

of her arm, and she smiles as you squirm.

As you watch, she exquisitely smiles,

reaches out, then her eyes seem to darken and shine

Now she says, “It will fade,”

as she smiles with her blades,

Ugly terror from beauty sublime.

Now you gasp, your blood spills as her claws pull your heart

and the sinewy bonds start to break

“What you have is bequest,

we can call this a test,

what I give, I’ll as easily take.”

She releases, and smiles as your blood is redrawn

by the thirst of your body: the price?

To endure the sweet pain

and forever remain

as a slave in your queendom of ice.

Not A Game

This game, it is not a game.
But it is not war either,
No playing field or battle field
But rather something more.

Yes, it is neither of what
These two impositions bring,
Yet there is a possibility
Between two other things.

In my right hand lies
The happier of the two,
For in this hand there's
No shade of black or blue.

In this hand people embrace
Amongst the fingers tightly curled.
They unite in mutual bliss,
Ready and eager to conquer the world.

But in my left rests
The choice far more dull,
For between the two players
Exists a tantalizing lull.

One creates a path leaving
The other no choice but to follow,
While the latter full of passion
Chases the former who is hollow.

Neither option puts on display
Any fashion of war or sport,
Either unison of players or
Polar opposition of divisive sort,
In which one wins automatic.
No competition to report.

Instead it is a gamble
Into which one unsurely stumbles,
Uncertainty does not cease
Until it solidifies or crumbles.

Skin

We are all covered in skin.

It repels, and holds within

Another form, left unseen.

Loudly she laughs and transitions

Gracefully between her different positions

As a queen; but within her lies a desolate feat.

Her faice painted on, the artistry of deciet.

She is lost in skin, and so are we.

He was a past he will never reveal,

Covered in scars and movie reels.

He cries silent tears and crushes the weak,

For he buries words that he never would speak.

He is hidden by skin, and so are we.

Our cracks are not embraced,

Not kissed to heal or origin traced.

No. Instead mere strings are thrown,

And break not for the things we know.

We are a nation filled with pain,

Cowering in shame.

We are a body sick within our skin;

We are wearing thin.

Beloved Stranger

It had been a while
But the flame you once
Sparked in my soul was easily
Reignited

How comfortably I fell
Softly, resting on the familiar
Blanketed in sweet memories
Fondly reliving our delicate
Beginnings

Yet so much had changed
Despite our revolving paths
The past had diverged, distance
Widening between circling roads
An unintended separation

Fate has sent us spiraling, crashing
(Though perhaps I should speak for myself)
What of free will?
We are stumbling, not by my choice
Though it may have been yours

My doors had slammed shut, and
I was content to seal myself in
Until your gentle knock beckoned
And I could not ignore it

A Shock to the Heart

Each tear shed for the memory of what was
Is precious to me.
If I could only bottle these tears,
Then these moments would not be forgotten.

No arms can hold me, no voice can soothe me
No consolation penetrates this shell.
Words flow around me, apologies.
They are lost in my shallow breathing.

I'm shaking with something that isn't cold,
Isn't anger, or any other emotion.
It's shock.

I am in shock.

Straight-A Student (view from the back of the room)

You sit at your desk, just doing your work -
A worksheet, how simple, just fill in the blank,
"But with what words?"
"Look at the bored duh. Theirs a word bank."
"Oh, okay," you say, so easily sated,
And pleased at perfection
When it's been graded
And your answers match up with the book and
Countless
Others, celebrating your conformity.

What have you done?

Unconscious Content

Frantic thoughts fill a fleeting mind
As all relativity proceeds to unwind.
No longer does time to space bind
The mysterious mentality I now find.

How peculiar a moment
In which mind and body
Do not join as one,
But rather function alone,
As if the other they shun.

Limbs move about in
Perfectly normal function,
Yet the brain sends no
Signal of instruction upon
Which to base their action.
Instead I am floating
About in the depths of my
Own unconscious consciousness,
As an atom drifts about the air
With desultory delight.

I have no direction,
Nor intention or desire.
If a search were the case
The campaign would be dire.
But I am content with
My wandering thoughts,
Pondering memories for answers
To questions I know not.

Like a dream played
Before me,
With eyes opened wide,
I perceive my surroundings
With a distracted divide.
My memory fails to
Replay the scene, the musical
Vibrations I hear in between,
Just a soft, soothing baseline
Upon which I drift into
Daydream, until sight means
Nothing to my jumbled,
Jumping, unconscious stream.

The expression upon my face
Remains unchanged, nothing new.
Muscles tight and contentedly so,
Lips held shut as if by glue.
Nothing exists. Not even I.
For everything appears
As though of a dream,
Unfamiliar, not mine,
Yet deceiving eyes do gleam.
I enjoy this displacing effect,
In which I see fine,
But ignore reality's undying defect,
And perceive a world which is only mine.

Cycle

Always remember.
Never forget.
Oh, redundancy: you have such a way with words.
Words.
I'll be yours forever.
I love you times infinity.
Nothing can be derived from those repetitious statements.
Statements.
The sky is blue.
The sky is black?
Well, which one is it? Just nature playing tricks with light.
Light.
Light my fire.
Set my mind ablaze.
Personally, I'm not a fan of burning
Burning.
Yes I am.
Burning with questions, desire, for what?
Something I'll never forget
And always remember.
Redundancy.
Now start again.

Heart of Darkness

She is far too bright, too innocent
To make her way in eternal night.
The darkness would consume her
For she's never felt the force
It exerts on the mind, on the soul,
On whatever remains of the heart.

She belongs to a land of magic
Where falling means someone is there
To catch you and love is always returned.
She prefers day because there is
Nothing to fear but a cloud to block the sun.
Night invokes terror in her sweet mind.

She sees not that night is only
As fearsome as we are afraid,
That the creatures beside you need not
Make you cry, for you are one and the same.
She would be lost in your darkness,
Darkness which I embrace.

Eternal night holds no fear for me
For I know that without it there is
Neither star nor moon, passion nor peace.
There is darkness in all which battles with light.
I embrace mine, conquering fear,
Feeling the power course through my veins.

If light is beautiful, then darkness, sublime,
For the emotions it evokes are compelling.
She runs from the darkness, denying herself and
The true nature of all, seen only at night.
You & I meet the darkness face to face, understanding
There is nothing in darkness which we do not already know.

Muse

Oh, to be a woman of the arts
To whom every word, every stroke
Pays homage,
Echoing her looks, her mind, her spirit
With power only the artist knows.

To be a Muse, one must only forfeit
All claim to independence, for once
Immortalized
In verse or on canvas, she loses that
Which made her interestingly complex.

She becomes what her master intended,
Mere fodder for his creative appetite, for
Who cares
About the person he has depicted?
She is merely his subject, nothing more.

Her essence is lost in appreciation of
Whichever technique her artist used, leaving her
Superfluous.
All that remains is that which her artist rendered
And an empty shell that once held her.

Muse, let the words flow from your pen
Or the paint flow from your brush instead.
Turn the tables
On your artist. Restrain he who once
Restrained you in pretty little nothings.

For in art, there is power.

Just Stop

Oh.
Hello.

You say that you know me,
I know that you do,
But there are some things
That I can't tell to you.

You always one-up me,
Or that's how it seems;
Stop shooting me down
With those strong, stubborn beams
That shoot from your eyes
And destroy things at will -
Don't think I haven't noticed
You always dress to kill.

To kill what or who?
I like to think that I know.
What kind of cruel seed
Are you trying to sow?

"Intimidation is key"
Well, has that gotten you far?
Because last time I checked
You were way above par.

So good luck winning now!
No, you can't fix this mess.
Do I want to reconcile?
Just take a wild guess.
You're smart enough to know
That the answer won't be yes,
So stay away from me -

We both know that's what's best.

Goodbye.
Permanently.

Dimensions of a Bathroom Stall

I know the dimensions of a bathroom stall.

The privacy of an illusion,

My stalls are a refuge from swirling

Pounding heartbeats of an apathetic mass.

Down the hall, down the stairs

My footsteps beat and ache

It's ok

You're ok

Faster

Christ

Save me.

The walls are caving in.

I press my back against the cool stall wall of separation

I outstretch my arms in tensions against the

Weight of every burden, and stabilize

The racking of sobs.

The sound is subdued as I bury my head in my arm.

I am a silent ache.

There is enough room to walk small circles,

Throw my head back for a gasp

Of life.

Let me disappear, this is all

Too much. Too much

The desire to throw open these doors

And run, the cold air a reminder of warmth.

Enveloped in light, I will run to you.

This stall will hold me

Instead of your arms.

the black and white speckled plastic

Can be the night sky and you

Will tell me how the world turns.

Reality jolts. A door is opened.

Time passed too slow, yet not long enough.

Shake of the head, blow of the nose

Open the stall, step out into

The bright expose

Replace dried tears

With washing water.

I look in the mirror,

And I am fine.

The Dawning

Waiting wonder invades
My weary mind,
For the night has long lost its youth
And my strength sunk near to nothing.
It's safe to say exhaustion
Has overcome perseverance.

My purpose for this
Excessive endurance of
The hours of dark
Is perhaps the pondering
Of what I mean to myself;
Dignity, intelligence,
Intentions, relevance.

As the whipping wind
Whispers wisdom to my
Perceptive semi-consciousness,
Questions rise
From the fertile fields
Of the stretches of my mind
Into looming crops of
Healthy flowers,
Reaching ever higher to
The sun's flaming vault
Of inaccessible solutions.

The dawn is fast approaching
Yet I fear its creeping light,
For with those rays of illumination
Comes the end to the nostalgic
Uncertainty of the night.

Telling Off

I was told to think of someone
Who made me really pissed
So naturally you jumped
To the tip-top of the list.

I tore at your heart strings
Then you shattered mine
And just when I thought
Everything would be fine
You pulled a trick move
Then just watched as I fell
And now all I can say is,
"Hey, punk - go to hell."

So go live your life,
Think of me as a bitch
But at least I can say
That I threw the first pitch.

So next time you crumble
And call upon me
Save yourself time and trouble
'Cause you know well that we
Are way more than over,
It's done and it's through;
I loathe that I wasted
My prized time on you.

The Strongest Of Knots

We have grown, you and I,
Graduated from the sands of recess,
Where freedom at its finest
Filled our youth and would caress
The unrepentant instinct we knew best.

Happiness has dwindled
As age has swiftly grown,
It looks as if we've
Chosen separate paths alone.
Perhaps our paths will cross once more
And end this absent drone.

Yet truthfully I can't stand
What you have become.
You're not the kid I met
When things were nice and fun.

Where were you when
I needed help, a trusty friend.
Your mind is elsewhere now, okay,
All good things will sometime end.

I've been standing outside your door
But my limbs are growing cold,
I suppose I must accept that
Even the strongest of knots do not forever hold.

Platonic?

You seem so dark
And I so light
The silence between us
Just doesn’t feel right.

Though I’m not one to show
My heart on display
I thought you could see it,
For it’s long been that way.

You invade my mind
More often than you know,
I smile and wave
Then just watch as you go

To some place in reality:
I know where it is.
But reading your mind
Is an impassable quiz.

I think I understand
But then am proven so wrong:
I hope you won’t stay away
For too very long

Because I miss what we were -
If we were anything –
But for now I’ll stay back
Let you do your own thing
While I live in my dream:
I the queen to your king.

The Illusion of Intent

I see you there
In my group of friends,
Resting content in between
Its start and end.

Smiling constant
With an unchanging face,
You seem so unreal,
You seem so very fake.

And really are you there,
Inside the facade at which I stare,
Or is it a trick well played
To camouflage the despair?

For what is a picture and name
Other than pixel and letter,
No more than the destruction of
Relations once much better.

These words mislead,
These 'friends' are feigned,
Eyes deceive
The naive brain,
My belief in this structure has steadily waned.

But if these letters mean nothing
And create a false illusion,
Are my words worth writing,
Or are they just hopeless delusion?

Before Dawn

I sit up alone in my room amidst the darkness,

As I usually do.

I wake in the quiet hours of the morning,

The world sunken in sheets of slumber,

Eyelids softly stirring from dreams

Of chasing glory and nightmares.

Those placid hours of night

Are mine alone.

Those minutes of encompassing silence,

A vessel for my thoughts.

The air is crisp, cool,

Untainted

By the disease of all that must be done,

And the many miles to be traveled.

I open my eyes to no one waiting for me,

And wrists free of knotted rope, for now.

I inhale the sweet breath

Of stillness

Before dawn.

Unbound By Limitation

I once knew the way of words,
How they flow about on the busy
Tongue.
My tongue has been stationary for
Far too long now.

I once knew the vibrations of sound,
Loud and soft tickling my eardrum with
Fascination.
My ears have been dormant with
My tranquil tongue.

Yet I can still see, peering
Into the world with
A different scope,
It's a lonely existence
But I still have hope.

I need not speak with anyone,
I can see them through and
They are fake.
My speech is more than they deserve,
I shall stay silent and keep my nerve.

I need not lend my ear to the
Babbling bastards of broken hearts,
They're a waste of time.
My ears are here for my mind,
Those words are untrue, unkind.

Yes, I am forbidden to interact
With life around me.
I'll never converse with
Gorgeous women or intellectual gods.
I'll never listen to a symphonic
Melody of even the restless rain.

Yet I have my words and my words are me.
I am unbound and completely free.

Not Just Another Doll

Liza looked in the mirror with awe. Her face was smooth and brilliantly made up, like she were a tiny but tragically beautiful porcelain doll. Her perfectly done hair sparkled, almost as if the night sky had rained down its heavenly stars upon her head. She looked at her gorgeous, white glittering costume. The dress made her look dainty and elegant, though it was by far the heaviest outfit she had ever worn. Her feet were also misleading, appearing small and graceful in her shiny ribboned slippers, though in truth they were bound and blistered, begging for freedom.

Seeing her dazzling appearance, Liza had a sudden renewed hope that she really could do this, that she really could make her lifelong dream come true. Ignoring her screaming feet, something she was good at after years of practice, Liza took one last look at herself. She then turned and left the room, her stomach now tying itself in knots. She passed a myriad of girls in glittering, colorful wardrobes, and knew that behind each painted smile hid that typical green monster of raving jealous envy.

Liza walked onto the wings of the stage, silently reviewing in her head the sequence of intricate steps. Her mind was racing at the speed of a computer, though glancing at her you would have the impression that she was not thinking anything at all. Liza looked hopefully at the big stage that was now only a few feet away from her cowering shadow. The stage was bright and colorful, welcoming her with a warm glow. Liza saw it instead as her fate flashing before her eyes. One wrong move or mistimed step and she had no future.

Liza looked up suddenly when she heard the sound of tired applause politely acknowledging the previous performance. She tried to swallow the huge nervous lump forming inside her throat, now realizing she would have to be perfect to win the adulation of this crowd. Liza then heard her name announced, followed once again by the forced and tired applause. She screwed on a smile and walked gracefully onto the stage, walking toe before heel, with her chin and chest held high. Now there was no turning back. She rose to her toes.

The music began, and Liza instantly became lost in it. She forgot about her screaming feet, her uncaring audience, and let her passion for dance conquer her fears. Suddenly she was overcome with a powerful rush of adrenaline. Her spins were faster, her jumps higher, her steps sharper. At this moment, she was happier than the happiest child. Her spirit shone brighter than the most dazzling sunrise. For the first time, Liza could truly feel the beauty of her dance.

She hit her final pose. The audience that had sat on its hands for all other performances was now on its feet roaring with admiration and thundering applause. Liza could picture herself at that exact moment: star-sparkling hair, elegant dress, misleadingly graceful feet, and a proud smile of accomplishment on her tragically beautiful porcelain-doll face.

And I Am Okay

I can hear the soft trickle
Outside my window.
It is steady and strong,
Creating a constant patter
Of pinprick collisions
Of dispersive water against
Rigid, relentless ground.

The monotony of the sound
Is enough to bore a man,
Or depress a man,
Or provoke a man,

Or to leave a man utterly
At ease.

It soothes with simplicity
In a way matched
By nothing I know,
Disclosed to my ears
In a private
Encounter with nature's
Beauty encompassed in
A profound pattern of chaos.

It is raining hard outside
And I am okay.

Comedy For the Ages

And so the bittersweet comes seeping out of my joy. My happiness is transient, at least it exists. Ebbing and flowing.

Standing next to you with apathy is so easy until you ask

"Why don't you look into my eyes?"

Well you see, dear, when I look in your eyes I see the darkness that encompassed my soul every night, closing my eyes to unearth more pain. Your eyes are my insecurities and the mistake of trusting a cloud. We can guffaw about how the worst has passed. Oh those hysterical days when I loved you, aren't they just a laugh? Comedy for the ages.

Your eyes broke me.

So have that last loud garish laugh of abrasive pride. Take a deep breath of silence. Silly boy your words are the least of my worries, its your eyes that kill.

Do not touch me. Do not laugh with me. I am not yours, never was, nor will be. I belong to a dream of requited love and fireworks.

Silent Retreat

Close your eyes.
Cast away stress, expression,
Melt away.

Now

Stand upright, arms outstretched,
Hoist them higher, pick up the sky,
Slightly straining
Breathe in gently, as to not
Harm the air. Now
Lift your head up, hands apart,
Grasping, clasping,
Embracing breeze,
Caress the wind, running across, around
Canyons of fingers, forests of hair,
Rivers of unconsciousness.
Swiftly shifting
Amidst shackles of sorrow
As they shatter.

You are, now,
Nothing,
but all,
Culminating until

Release.

Thought Transference

To be able to have thoughts parallel to someone
Else's sheds profound
Light on the concept of individuality.
Exceptions are irrelevant, for though you
Propose that no two people are the same,
Actuality begs to differ -
There are too many of us to
Hail solely unique attributes:
You are no anomaly.

10/29/10

Rain

The clouds roll with thunder

Loud claps of anger

Pent up inside the blue

For too long.

Face turned heavenwards,

The rain is my tears

Enveloping me within

The downpour of my soul.

My chilled skin is

Akin to yours now,

Visible as carved stone

As a name and numbers.

I stand among a battlefield

Of life, where death

Defies defeat.

I stand drenched in mortality.

The thundering roars are my screams

And the lightning my denial.

This weight brings me

To a wet kneel.

A prayer to the rain

To flood me back to you.

Escape

Every minute I want to

Break.

Drift through these walls

Float into the vast possibilities

of the sky

Where your absence won’t haunt me

And these reaching hands

Dissolve in the breath of cloud vapors.

I hate gravity and the thick

Smog of perpetual melancholy.

There is too little here,

Where there is too much

Of everything.

Escape is a distant dream,

Only attainable in

The reaches of

My mind.

Just A Girl

Sitting in silence
At a table all alone,
I was at ease with content
In thoughts all my own.

The sun shone bright
And I was rather annoyed,
For its intensity was regrettably
Higher than I would've enjoyed.

And suddenly out of a shimmering ray,
She appeared in my line of sight,
Posed directly across from where I sat,
Her entire image glistening bright.

With the parting of her lips
And the sight of her perfect smile,
All sense of comfort left me
To toil alone for a while.

I could feel a bead of sweat
Trickle down my trembling cheek.
Her mere presence tortures me so,
Around her I am wretchedly weak.

Her eyes, those eyes,
Piercing and probing
Through my mind,
A wonderland of thrill
In which her presence
Continues to manifest still.

When my face remained unchanged
Her sweet smile softly dwindled,
And as quick as her lips rejoined
My contented comfort had been rekindled.

Once again I was in control,
Unaffected by her poséd threat,
I saw before me just a girl
And I surely ceased my nervous sweat.

I flashed a quick smile,
As fake as I intended,
Then stood from my seat,
Other things were to be attended.

She remained with a confused
Expression spread across her face;
I let a smile creep across mine
At the thought of her mind beginning to race.

Those eyes, no longer pierced.
That smile, no longer shone.
Suddenly just a girl on a bench
That I had once known.

My Greatest Regret: Act II

Her name was Ellie, as I was informed by a rather reliable source. A beautiful name in all aspects. I whispered the name over and over to myself in my head. She was, without a doubt, to be mine - as long as I allowed myself to go for it.

-------------------

I hated the beach. Despised it. Fervently. It was partially that my skin had a bad reaction to salt water back then – but it was mostly that I felt that I had been so many times that I was over it. The same way that I’m over peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. A good thing that pops up too frequently can become intolerable, unless it’s Fruit Leather. That stuff never gets old.

Of course, the decision to not enter the water usually results in sticky sand compiling on the body, normally on the backs of the calves. I had decided to wear shoes to the beach that day, apparently for no good reason at all. Also, though I had applied a generous amount of sunscreen to my body, it made no difference at all. It was all absurd, but my level of caring had momentarily dissipated along with the moisture in my body.

We were walking along the edge of water, where the foam builds up in cloudy masses, which sometimes float off when the wind picks up. By we, I mean the good friends and I. Just Jack and Sweeney. I didn’t really care for some of the places we went, but we were tight enough as a group that it didn’t matter what we were doing – we could have fun. We used to pride ourselves on rejecting girls as a necessity. I suppose that we still might share that philosophy, but at that time, we were breaking our own laws, little by little.

I could feel the sun invade my skin cells, forcefully stabbing and evaporating all of the water out of my upper back. I trudged through the thick muck where the waves had just pulled back from, and experienced a shot of icy spray against my right leg as the ocean began to play tricks on me. That was what I disliked most – the contrast between hot and cold. If nature couldn’t decide if it was one or the other, how could a simple human consistently stay true to their attitude? The ocean and sand are divided, but there is that strip where they combine and forget what is true for those fleeting moments. Just as a wave ventures out of the ocean, a human can do something out of the norm in order to achieve satisfaction. Ellie was immersed somewhere in between, in the gray matter. Reaching her would be no easy task.

------------------------------

We crashed at the Ponte Vedra Beach Cabana to rest in the shade for a minute and observe the passer-byes. They say that life’s not a spectator sport, but we could defy that principle for a couple of moments as we laid back on the reclining chairs, facing the beach.

It became a stage. We were just people in the audience, removed from their world and now scrutinizing them behind the safety of the deck. We were untouchable, glimpsing clips of life from frantic humans.

“She is fine.” Sweeney intently gawked in the direction of a particularly attractive girl, who was scampering across the hot sand in a half-hearted effort to catch up with her friends, who had taken her flip-flops. Her arms awkwardly swung from side to side in her public lack of athleticism, and her legs painfully shot up every time her toes weightlessly brushed over the ground. It was altogether sad. I could see where Sweeney was going – she had an above average body. However, she was vastly out of touch with her surroundings. As I pondered, a miniscule sandstorm whipped up around her legs and she began flailing and screaming. Pathetic.

“What do you think, Braden?” Of course, Sweeney was asking me about that mess of a girl. Might as well humor him.

“She’s aight.” The girl promptly tripped over a convenient log of driftwood. I chuckled inside. Practicality is of essence in friendships. As long as he wasn’t going for Ellie.

Jack was quick to find someone suitable to his liking. “Hey,” he said, “down there. You see that group walking by the pier? The one in the middle, with the blue bathing suit.”

The group consisted of five girls, all who, by most standards, could be considered pretty. Jack’s subject was flashy. Her hair was blonde, though I doubt that was her natural color. It was a feigned attempt at some ideal standard she had observed on a fashion billboard, or perhaps in a glamour magazine. All five girls were walking side by side, in a uniform fashion surely adopted from watching fashion models waltz up and down in front of crowds, and there was never enough attention to go around – they were all in a constant power struggle to attain full control over their peers. That girl was a product of the American consumer nation. I bet that if I tried to talk to her, she would feel offended and comment on something vastly irrelevant, like my failure to match clothing. She was dissociated, one who would alienate others and be alienated from truth. Nothing like Ellie.

“So… Braden,” Jack said, drawing his words out, presumably for something unnecessary and dramatic. “See anyone out there? Or are you just going to shut us down again?”

I was right. “Jack,” I began, “No. I don’t see anyone.” She would never descend to the level of these makeup-donning excuses for women. That’s all they were out there – ideal models. They looked good, but they sure didn’t possess anything beyond that. Ellie already knew who she was. She didn’t need reassurance. She wasn’t missing important human characteristics such as consideration and moderation. She had no burning desire for someone to cover up patches in her life; she was individual enough to spring forth and help herself. I wanted to pry into the mind of perfection.

“I have to pee.” I trotted down the boardwalk and down the steps, the around the bend. I was pretending to look for a dune, but in reality, I just wanted to get away for a bit. My mind was congested with thoughts about life – about her and about how it would – could – never happen.

My steps became shorter with every stride. The ground began to move quicker under my feet. The people around me blended into the ocean, the umbrellas, the sand – it didn’t matter. They didn’t exist anymore. I took in a heavy breath of the salty air.

Dead sprint.

Everything was a blur. Nothing was real. My arms pumped faster and faster. The sand began churning upwards. People were looking. Who cares? My adrenaline peaked. The world had become my track. I just kept going and going and going and go-

(wait just one second)

I stopped abruptly. My heart eased its hurried pace. Ellie was there, in all of her glory. She was walking her small, poodle-ish dog, coming in my direction, about 100 yards away. I had two options – run back the way I came, or forward. Behind me was regret, and the prize was in front of me, glittering in the golden evening sun.

Simple perfection.

I would lightly jog forward, but not directly look at her. Nor would I talk to her, or even try to. I would run in her direction, but not so entirely head on that she would question me. I might glance at her to give her a hint. Maybe.

I started to run. She was not far away now. I had about ten seconds to decide my destiny. I ever so slightly veered to the right so that she would not recognize me. Not here. I wasn’t ready to take on this challenge quite yet.

Now she was walking by me. (I think she saw me!) No, the glare in her sunglasses surely reflected my image away. I was safe. No more worry, at least for now. I th-

I heard a barking noise behind me. Oh no. I looked over my shoulder and my stomach flipped over. Ellie’s dog had loosed itself from her grip, and it was chasing the nearest jogger, who conveniently happened to be me.

I tried to pick up my pace to evade my sure doom, but it was useless. It was already nipping at my heels. There was no escape.

I turned around in the hope that Ellie would just grab the leash and walk off.

“I’m so sorry!” She swiftly scampered up to her miniscule dog, which was now sniffing my toes. I guess I had no chance to run now. Bending down to scoop up the growling cotton ball, she fastened the leash. “Sorry! Thanks for helping!”

She stood up. I stopped trying to get away.

“Braden?”

She knew my name? “Yeah – how – sorry, I just wasn’t really expecting to see you, you know, I was running, and I guess I didn’t realize who you were-” She knew my name!

“That’s okay.” Beaming, she leaned back to fix her hair, the sun reflecting off of her gleaming body. It was a sublime moment – I was paralyzed with nervous tension, but struck with deep awe, deep respect. Immense admiration. “In case you didn’t know,” she hesitated for a second, waiting to recollect my attention, “my name’s Elizabeth, but most people that know me just call me Ellie.”

“Oh, I knew,” I said, grinning with an awkward smile. We both laughed, as a cooler breeze began to blow across the beach. To me, this appeared to be the beginning of something great.

-----

We talked for hours - about school, the classes we had together, about life… in all, she had a phenomenal personality. She impressed me with her attention to detail and ability to turn simple things into philosophical questions. I was falling in love with a practical stranger.

Perhaps it was most surprising that she was not contented with her friends. She told me that they acted fake and slutty just to get all of the guys. She was tired of associating with that life. This did me over twice, as I had yet to meet as real as a person as she was in my entire existence. Our mutual admiration grew by the minute, as I shared my issues with my friends being obsessed with those exact fake girls Ellie brought up.

For so long, I had prided logic over emotion, but now it was all emotion. Emotion took over, and formed a bond between Ellie and I. She stunned me with her potent combination of loveliness and intelligence, and I – well, I don’t know what it was about me, but she sure didn’t seem to mind it at all.

Near the end of our conversation, we laid back on the dune and just looked up. All anxious feelings had disappeared long ago. I remember slowly turning my head to the right to gaze at her. She did exactly the same to me. She smiled just a bit, just enough to be noticeable, and something about that action made utterly content. She reached her hand over to mine, and clasped it. Not too firm, just enough so that you could not pull away. Not that I wanted to.

“Don’t you need to get back to your friends eventually?” Ellie’s eyes gently pulled me closer.

“Nah.” I raised my eyebrows and shrugged my shoulders. “I mean, they’ll get by.” I smiled and she reciprocated.

“Well, it was great getting to know you better. I’ll see you in school Monday!” She sat up suddenly, and walked over to her dog, which was fast asleep on the sand.

“Wait a moment,” I said, “Are you-”

“Oh yeah,” she said, “I forgot.” She softly floated over to me and we embraced. It was all one, drawn out motion. Those were the loveliest fifteen seconds of my life. I would not understand this until much later, but that was an I-thou interaction at its finest. The hug was not simply a hug. Gravity, just for that moment, seemed to disorient itself as we swayed back and forth.

I gradually pulled backwards, becoming lost in her eyes and almost falling backwards. I elatedly grinned and said, “I’ll see you later, Ellie!” She happily returned the goodbye, and I began to walk back in the direction of the boardwalk. She was went in the opposite direction. I needed one more glance. I looked back over my shoulder. She, without a doubt, was the most beautiful girl had ever been friends with. Light glimmered around her bronzed skin. We had so quickly transcended the stranger level of relationship to being close friends. It all seemed so odd, but it felt right.

Suddenly, I thought about next weekend. I dodged a biker as I perused what was to come. It was the big school dance. As in the dance where everyone's uncomfortable because no one has a clue what to do. Even though I despised those events, I would have to go just to show her how much I liked her. She had successfully infiltrated my thought process, and I didn’t care. My freedom of choice had been tossed, and now it was all about what we could be together. We shared a dynamic personality, and the capacity of intelligent pondering and doing.

We would conquer the world.

A Man Not Himself

Grooves were dug into his palms
As he rested them heavily,
Painfully, on the fountain's cold, hard edge.
He stared intently into the dark
Water's surface,
Into his own eyes.

He searched the liquid mirror
To find what was blatantly,
Yet not,
Staring directly back at him,
Unfeeling and unaware
Of the meticulous mind
That filled its counterpart.

The water was calm,
Yet unbelievably
Menacing and threatening,
Sinister and cunning.

Its discrete dark hue matched the
Sickening air that surrounded the scene.

For he was hunched over
In a pose
That warded off others,
A pose that everyone knows,
That everyone hates,
That no one wants to assume.

And inside he was distraught,
For something beautiful had been undone,
Like a freely fluttering, intricate butterfly,
A natural creation beyond
The capability of mankind,
Struck from the sky,
Limited to a sorrowful struggle on the ground.

No one could help,
Nothing could change it,
Inevitably, incomprehensibly,

Destroyed.

After looking long into the abyss
Of his emotionless reflection
He tore his palms from the sharp edge
Of the fountain.
Slowly, he departed, indifferent to what
Happened next...what did it matter?

And yet, there remained, his
Imprinted reflection in that
Black body of water, the unlikely prison.
And forever would it remain,
Knocking, never stopping, against
The flimsy barrier that kept it locked away,
Begging hopelessly for someone to
Release it.

He returned home that night,
No different from any other night,
Yet different altogether.
He left something more important,
Something he could never again obtain.
He lost that which defined him as someone
Other than just another,
Unrecognizable body amongst a
Compilation of countless complacent components.

He went home a man not himself.