And the Sun Rose
I woke up to a downpour
Hitting my window at six in the morning.
I opened the window,
And laid down back to sleep
To the sound of water as
The sun rose for the morning.
The same sun that held our world,
Our lives, our history, our lore.
As I rose for the morning
I listened to the sound of water,
Not rushing
Not worrying
Heading towards the day
With a soft calm that only rain can give.
And the rain and the sun blend together
In rays and waves, adorning
The flowers stand in the dawn
Where the rain rains
And the sun shines
And I wake up at six in the morning
With a downpour hitting my window
And I open my window.
Coming Back Home
Coming back from abroad, I've realized food here is bland.
Food there is something to enjoy, to be savored.
It's meant to bring people together and be enjoyed.
It's meant to be cooked! In all sorts of ways!
Techniques aren't something fancy; it's just normal.
I used to love smores poptarts, but now they're nothing compared to the croissants and the brodjes and the fruit juice.
The dinners are cold and lifeless compared to the duck and the fall apart steak and stew.
The fat melts in your mouth there while here it's chewy and flavorless.
But no matter how bland anything else is, nothing, nothing compares to the orgasmic, chewy, utterly divine gift that is jersey shore fudge.
Chapter 1 of My Life: Grace
My parents convinced me I had a twin sister named Grace that they sold to the gypsies.
I was 2 or 3 when they both told me this; my brothers played along. So there I was a little kid with her whole family telling her that she had a twin sister that they robbed her of. Well technically, sold.
They also told me I had another older brother, John the Firstborn, who they also sold to the gypsies. Once again, my brothers backed this up.
Now I was a smart little kid. I was troublesome, but I was cunning too. I knew how to get what I wanted; I knew how to get out of things I didn't. (I was sick a lot as a kid) And yet with all my brains, I couldn't figure out that they were pulling my leg. I didn't realize that the only time they brought up Grace or John was when they told me I could be with them. It was a way to get me to behave. It never worked.
I wanted my sister back. I wanted to be able to grow up with her, and so we could share our lives with each other. But she was over in France with Esmeralda and Djali. I wanted another brother, older than the two I already had, that would be able to take me to the park and buy me ice cream.
I never took the bait of me being sold to the gypsies. Come on, I knew they would never do that to their children. I just never put 2 and 2 together.
Whoops.
The What Ifs?
I am afraid of the unknown.
The what ifs.
They debilitate me.
When I was little my dad would take me outside to see the full moon in the dark.
And he would go "AH! What was that! Over in that thick cluster of bushes! Could it be a werewolf? I think you should go check it out."
I knew he was messing with me. He was always messing with me.
I was certain there was nothing there in the bushes. If anything a squirrel or maybe a turkey. (Although the turkeys are terrifying enough.)
But it was the what if? that caught me. The what if? that made me yell and go back inside.
It's now the what if I fails? What if I'm not doing the right thing?
What happens on each path?
I mentally turn down one and then what if it's the wrong road?
So my head comes back and I end up stuck.
I'm stuck.
What if the werewolves are real?
DOWN, DOWn, DOwn, Down, down
There's a little place beneath it all where I go when it's rough.
I don't want to go, I say,
but I am dragged down anyway.
It's a place not even for the tough.
A place where fire consumes me.
A mountain of pain
Knives in my brain
Where even Satan's monsters flee.
I leave claw marks on the ledge
Hoping, praying for someone to see them.
But knowing not when,
And being pulled down and down to the river they dredged.
Maybe there's an escape?
Maybe a light at the end of a tunnel
Something to take my horrors and funnel
it into the light.