Tag Archives: poem

Toothbrush

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2017/08/01/toothbrush/

I glance at the bathroom. The door is wide open. I can hear the water running in the shower. The sheet has fallen to the floor and I lay on the bare bed. It’s stained and worn. I see something that looks like blood and wonder who else has laid on this bare bed with the sheet fallen to the floor. It smells musty. A bit old, maybe almost rotten, yet somehow I like the smell. It smells familiar and comfortable, yet I’ve never been here. I look back into the bathroom. The mirror is foggy from the steam and drips onto the counter. There’s a glass jar. I notice a toothbrush. It’s frailed with green grips, but there’s another. This one seems fresh. The grips are pink. Pink. Would he have a second toothbrush for himself that is pink? Or have I done it again? Laid and somehow betrayed. I shuttered at the thought. It feels like just yesterday I faced a girl with a broken heart. Who wanted to blame me, to hate me, and maybe she did, but more she hated herself for loving him. I can’t do this again. I can’t face this other toothbrush. I grab my clothes. I rush out unexplained.

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Exactly Who I Want Be

I laugh with tears in my eyes.

It is what I have realized, never what I expected.

I can be exactly who I want to be.

And how is this something I could not see?

It is you with me, and doing what I need, to be exactly who I want to be.

Confounded by the limitations and the can nots and must nots, I failed to see.

I can be exactly who I want to be.

Wickedness

This is my world
Colored with rainbows and sunshine
Colored with shadows and rain
This world is mine
Thriving with innovation
Thriving with deprivation
This world – internalized
Dying with old age and excitements
Dying with abuse and pollutants

The nightmare series #1

The room is filled with darkness and I can feel nothing accept the aching in my chest. It restricts each breath with anxiety creeping through my veins. Then there is light and I see someone; a man. We’re in a wood house. Wind sweeps through the cracks of the wood with a whisper. I hear a baby crying. The man,  I know him. I trust him. He does not speak a word, but tells me to follow him. The light shifts and we are elsewhere. The baby crying is louder now. I try to ask where the baby is, but no words form. A girl twirls, her hair flying around. Her giggles echo with the sounds of the crying baby.  I almost smile at her joy, but she stops. She looks at me, or faces towards me. Her face does not exist. It’s a blur of non existence, yet I know she is laughing and crying. Facing her pain with hysteria. My stomach cringes and the man grabs my wrist. We go up a wooden ladder. I hear the screams of the baby.  Once we are in the room, like a loft, the man dissappears. There is something on the floor, screaming. I tremble. I fear what has happened to the baby.  As i step forward to glance at the baby, the man reappears. He thrusts me forward.im standing over the baby. But it doesn’t look like a baby. It has some light brown fur. It’s body looks mangled and twisted. But it has the face of a baby. A scrambled and frightening face, but the face of a baby nonetheless. I attempt to scream, but all goes silent. All goes dark. I open my eyes.

I am part of one the one percent of the general population that has chronic nightmares, multiple nightmares every night. When ever I have the time,  I will be blogging any nightmares I remember. Join me for the terror.

Have you noticed..

What is my obsession with time
Every moment tracked and monitored
I keep tabs on myself
Not to waste this oh so precious time
But am I not wasting it by tracking it?
A moment passes with each glance towards a clock
An hour passed as I scribbled my schedule
What is my obsession with time
This illusion we share
It controls me as I attempt to control it