This is a drug. Sculpted by a set of hand cuffs made of plaster. Not my finest creation, but this is not my finest hour. It sits and bakes in the wake of the addict. Hidden among the weeds and the trees and the flowers. Only those who suffer could understand it’s power. How it grows and holds. Expanding from the molds which housed it. A plant in the mind of those who know where to look. Where to find such meaningless things in wish filled dreams. Only they can understand. This drug. Sculpted by a set of plastered handcuffs. This isn’t my finest creation, but it only took an hour. I can choose to give it power, or I can choose to throw it away. I am the addict who hides. Among the tree and weeds and thorns. Watching as it expands from the molds I sculpted. I leave meaning in its creations. Define it by dreams that I am making.
Tag Archives: Narrative
F – Freeze me
My mother wouldn’t look at me no matter how much I tried to catch her. I think a part of her knew. Of course she will pretend other wise, but what else is there to believe. The women who carried me would never be capable of this. At least, that is the story I wish I could believe. My own mother can not bare to look at me. She turns away every chance she gets. Lips tremble as she lies. Eyes glisten as she hides. She can stand to touch my hand. Or rather, what little that is left. I think it scares her. But I wish she could see that it scares me more. I am the one who will never be loved. The one who will always be alone. I can find my beauty in other things. But not if she can not do this simple task. I need my mother to see me. I need her not to grieve whats gone. She can’t bare it though. Despite that fact that it was I who was wronged.
A- Advantageous
“She is just so cute” came the whispers
as my daughter laid herself out on the floor
Knees askew and arms to the side
Face scrunched up as she gave such loud cries
I could see them standing to the side
Ignoring the pleading look in my eye
I need help, someone to step in
but they see her smile and tightly spun curls
Her mocha skin with such clear pours
A lady stops by with a whisper
“Here’s a five, give her what she wished for”
As if her fit deserves such a gift
But if I turn away I will be judged
If I continue on I will be accused of not
not loving her enough to control her behavior
“Pretty girls don’t cry”
Whispers the man standing by
So I grab the money and make promises I will not keep
Walk away from the store and in my car I start to weep
NIGHTMARE FANTASY 