she sits
listening to the sound of air
and snow
pressure in her chest
she starts to cough
something red
something black
comes up from inside
and it is dark and whole
it writhes in a pile on the floor
like a fish out of water
a child
a face like the devils
and a satine heart
what it once was
was wrapped
like a gift
that no one could have
wrapped in thorns
love is like bread
left out and forgotten
old and hard
unfit
for consumption
the child stares at her
milky white eyes like a mule’s
it’ froths and spits
a black shadow wrapped around one
leg
a hand
holds on tight
squeezes and
pulls
the child
with its black hair
and small hands
disappears
screaming.
she stands
she stretches
she takes a deep breath
and she puts one foot
into the waters
then walks away
her heart one solid
thump at a time
a warm loaf
from the oven
waiting to be
savored.
she leaves behind fresh prints in the snow.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
What Would Be The Color Of The Last Day?
red if we spilled roses and spoke in tongues
blue if water rose and we knew of our beliefs
green if the trees spoke in riddles and we left our belongings behind
yellow if the sun hugged us and we laughed at the stars
orange if fire swallowed the sky and we coughed up our lies
purple if from under the bed they finally came and we cried into our pillows
white if diamonds fell from the sky and we lost our minds inside the caves
black if we simply closed our eyes and smiled at the end of days.
blue if water rose and we knew of our beliefs
green if the trees spoke in riddles and we left our belongings behind
yellow if the sun hugged us and we laughed at the stars
orange if fire swallowed the sky and we coughed up our lies
purple if from under the bed they finally came and we cried into our pillows
white if diamonds fell from the sky and we lost our minds inside the caves
black if we simply closed our eyes and smiled at the end of days.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Rhapsody
not quite a look
but
unruly eyes, harmless
inside your head
your fingers, your
feet.
swaying while
ink drips out
of the pen and
a single sandal
slips off a dirty
foot.
she speaks
letters but not words.
light hides still in her heart.
but
unruly eyes, harmless
inside your head
your fingers, your
feet.
swaying while
ink drips out
of the pen and
a single sandal
slips off a dirty
foot.
she speaks
letters but not words.
light hides still in her heart.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
November 6th, 2007
All of you on this day
Table top crumbs
the still life muse
of a blue sneakered boy
bearded poets
gargoyles perched,
watch children
taught religious math
unknown circuses of machines
making a night prayer of life, occasionally death
and a kiss brings it all to a close
as grey hair and glasses crosses out our emotions.
Table top crumbs
the still life muse
of a blue sneakered boy
bearded poets
gargoyles perched,
watch children
taught religious math
unknown circuses of machines
making a night prayer of life, occasionally death
and a kiss brings it all to a close
as grey hair and glasses crosses out our emotions.
October 30th, 2007
the making of a misery
one glance alive
lips part slightly
as they pull into
a warmth she feels
in her bones.
one touch
goose bumps falling
down her skin from
neck to toes. a feeling
she can’t shake.
and doesn’t want to.
one kiss
a moment imprinted
like an image in a book
never to change, but can
always be destroyed.
one embrace
the descent into dreams
reality is pliable
and she puts her hand
through the mirror
into her heart.
one night
of breath
sweat pouring inside her.
fingernails down back.
sleep curls into him.
one life
an ending. so abrupt.
jaw still hangs slightly.
his hat no longer
on the door.
thin scent of a misery
she cannot live without.
one glance alive
lips part slightly
as they pull into
a warmth she feels
in her bones.
one touch
goose bumps falling
down her skin from
neck to toes. a feeling
she can’t shake.
and doesn’t want to.
one kiss
a moment imprinted
like an image in a book
never to change, but can
always be destroyed.
one embrace
the descent into dreams
reality is pliable
and she puts her hand
through the mirror
into her heart.
one night
of breath
sweat pouring inside her.
fingernails down back.
sleep curls into him.
one life
an ending. so abrupt.
jaw still hangs slightly.
his hat no longer
on the door.
thin scent of a misery
she cannot live without.
October 30th, 2007
The yellow glint
inside her eyes
he craves it
Forever
coat hangs on a chair
he isn’t there
memories here
all alone
dripping with woe
however
it feels so right
he craves my colors
red, orange, swirling thought
can’t let him taste me
wandering alone under
there is no such thing
as a memory here now
inside her eyes
he craves it
Forever
coat hangs on a chair
he isn’t there
memories here
all alone
dripping with woe
however
it feels so right
he craves my colors
red, orange, swirling thought
can’t let him taste me
wandering alone under
there is no such thing
as a memory here now
October 15th, 2007
Scene laid out. Black.
A blade of grass that is moving sporadically.
5 seconds.
Pan out.
A hand. motionless.
Pen near hand, hand poised on a journal.
A female hand.
Two rings. Fingernails painted, nail polish cracked.
Unknown color.
Pan out.
A girl is lying on the grass.
She wears a skirt, a shirt.
Pan out.
The grass is a yard.
A front yard.
Night time.
No movements save the trees being shaken by the wind.
The only sound is that. The wind.
Fade to black.
Scene laid out.
A man is in a room.
The room has a single lamp on.
The room has a couch, a table, the lamp and
The man. He has blood on him.
Blood on his hands, his shirt.
He wears no pants only underwear.
His face is contorted.
He holds a knife.
The knife is clean.
Pan out.
Pan around room.
Circle, stop on bathroom door.
Scene change.
Through the bathroom door.
Blood.
All over the floor, the old fashioned bathtub, the mirror.
The blood pool is largest next to the double doors.
They lead out to a balcony.
They stand slightly open.
Pan to balcony.
Blood on balcony.
Smears.
Pan over balcony.
Front yard.
The girl still lies there.
No blood.
Hand poised over journal.
Pen still next to hand.
Waiting.
A blade of grass that is moving sporadically.
5 seconds.
Pan out.
A hand. motionless.
Pen near hand, hand poised on a journal.
A female hand.
Two rings. Fingernails painted, nail polish cracked.
Unknown color.
Pan out.
A girl is lying on the grass.
She wears a skirt, a shirt.
Pan out.
The grass is a yard.
A front yard.
Night time.
No movements save the trees being shaken by the wind.
The only sound is that. The wind.
Fade to black.
Scene laid out.
A man is in a room.
The room has a single lamp on.
The room has a couch, a table, the lamp and
The man. He has blood on him.
Blood on his hands, his shirt.
He wears no pants only underwear.
His face is contorted.
He holds a knife.
The knife is clean.
Pan out.
Pan around room.
Circle, stop on bathroom door.
Scene change.
Through the bathroom door.
Blood.
All over the floor, the old fashioned bathtub, the mirror.
The blood pool is largest next to the double doors.
They lead out to a balcony.
They stand slightly open.
Pan to balcony.
Blood on balcony.
Smears.
Pan over balcony.
Front yard.
The girl still lies there.
No blood.
Hand poised over journal.
Pen still next to hand.
Waiting.
October 15th, 2007
alongside
wine colored
hair
unnatural beauty
water
languid
fluid
eyes that don’t see
she is married
to
colors
unnamable
unattainable
I could drown in
her.
So I do.
this is the
importance
of
the color
Blue
wine colored
hair
unnatural beauty
water
languid
fluid
eyes that don’t see
she is married
to
colors
unnamable
unattainable
I could drown in
her.
So I do.
this is the
importance
of
the color
Blue
October 2nd, 2007
go
good + evil
in relation
to
production waste
go
go
go
go
don’t sleep
or else you
will die
we see with
our mouths
as our
hands cry
and our eyes
grab at
everything
short term memory
doesn’t exist anymore
but we are much better
at telling
lies
now that we know how
to write.
good + evil
in relation
to
production waste
go
go
go
go
don’t sleep
or else you
will die
we see with
our mouths
as our
hands cry
and our eyes
grab at
everything
short term memory
doesn’t exist anymore
but we are much better
at telling
lies
now that we know how
to write.
September 18th, 2007
honey + milk
Where we are.
What a question.
The curve of the back.
Milk, bone, soft.
honey + milk
bone plaster
smooth cream bone
curves under honey
+ milk skin.
pores are open. light
peachy fuzz dances
under fingertips
hair
like water
brushing the tips of
tendrils with
coarse fingers.
Where we are.
What a question.
The curve of the back.
Milk, bone, soft.
honey + milk
bone plaster
smooth cream bone
curves under honey
+ milk skin.
pores are open. light
peachy fuzz dances
under fingertips
hair
like water
brushing the tips of
tendrils with
coarse fingers.
September 18th, 2007
letters jump off the page
dance
and wander all over the furniture
the counters
she gazes out
ignores the tango in her head
a whirlpool in the middle of a lake
while you fish on a boat
cigarette and beer in hand
bored
blinded by the flashes of illumination
won’t pick up the pen
the dance goes on
she takes a deep breath
dance
and wander all over the furniture
the counters
she gazes out
ignores the tango in her head
a whirlpool in the middle of a lake
while you fish on a boat
cigarette and beer in hand
bored
blinded by the flashes of illumination
won’t pick up the pen
the dance goes on
she takes a deep breath
September 11th, 2007
wake
hiding below the soft folds of skin
blue orbs
brush my cheeks
spiders tiptoe across
my lashes
colors wind around spirals
and eyes flicker in the darkness
flutter open
and adjust
a window with a crystal
spinning in the middle
the sun shines through
clear
stretch and stand
movement in my legs
and I glide to the tiled box
where heaven
comes down
softness on warm skin
and a splash of cool water
carry me
out the door
and into reality
hiding below the soft folds of skin
blue orbs
brush my cheeks
spiders tiptoe across
my lashes
colors wind around spirals
and eyes flicker in the darkness
flutter open
and adjust
a window with a crystal
spinning in the middle
the sun shines through
clear
stretch and stand
movement in my legs
and I glide to the tiled box
where heaven
comes down
softness on warm skin
and a splash of cool water
carry me
out the door
and into reality
September 4th, 2007
suspended in air
with a flashlight
stepping on the water
faster. faster.
slowly but surely
footsteps gain
confidence
heading towards your place.
you are.
the place you are now
will always be
have always been
you are never not okay
tears finally fall down your
face
tears of relief
after all this time
the answer was so simple
it was right here all along
your eyes were closed for so long
now they have opened
you realize how beautiful every thing is
now that the light has been turned on
you toss the flashlight into the water
with a flashlight
stepping on the water
faster. faster.
slowly but surely
footsteps gain
confidence
heading towards your place.
you are.
the place you are now
will always be
have always been
you are never not okay
tears finally fall down your
face
tears of relief
after all this time
the answer was so simple
it was right here all along
your eyes were closed for so long
now they have opened
you realize how beautiful every thing is
now that the light has been turned on
you toss the flashlight into the water
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Tonsils
I now have no tonsils. After all these years of getting sick over and over again. I got my tonsils out yesterday. And boy am I in pain right now. I want more vicodin but I have to wait another hour to take any more and my throat is killing me. Yesterday I was still pretty doped up from being under so it wasn't so bad but today is worse. Tomorrow might be too. But then I should be on the up and up. I hope...
Anyhoo, I figured since I am encarcerated in my mother's house for 5-7 days I should get some writing done if I am feeling up to it. I have not posted anything in this blog in awhile and some friends have been asking for more. So here it is.
I read the new Harry Potter book in about 2 days. Hah. Yeah, I'm a bit of a geek but get over it. I also saw the movie about 3 days before the book came out so I was SET. I won't give any spoilers for any of you who have still not had the enjoyment of reading these books but all I have to say is AWESOME.
Okay, my tonsils..no lack there of, are hurting me. I am going to try to sleep. More - later
Anyhoo, I figured since I am encarcerated in my mother's house for 5-7 days I should get some writing done if I am feeling up to it. I have not posted anything in this blog in awhile and some friends have been asking for more. So here it is.
I read the new Harry Potter book in about 2 days. Hah. Yeah, I'm a bit of a geek but get over it. I also saw the movie about 3 days before the book came out so I was SET. I won't give any spoilers for any of you who have still not had the enjoyment of reading these books but all I have to say is AWESOME.
Okay, my tonsils..no lack there of, are hurting me. I am going to try to sleep. More - later
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Fuck
Fuck the world and fuck this poem. Fuck the beat poets. Fuck Gauguin. Fuck your hair and your stylish clothes. Fuck the man in the moon and his laughing eyes. Fuck your gorgeous brown hair and those lines in your hips. Fuck having sex. Fuck Allen Ginsberg. Fuck Anne Waldman and her fast-paced woman. Fuck going gentle into the good night. Fuck that tyger burning bright. Fuck cranberry juice and vodka. Fuck rice and beans and french fries. Fuck cell phones and balenciaga purses. Fuck skulls and pink and black. Fuck this rant and Vadi too. I want to say fuck fuck fuck fuck to you all. But remember – It’s not personal. I’ve had a rough night.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Chapter 2. Pt. I
Chapter 2. Pt. I
Chapter 2
I wake up and my cat is suffocating me as usual. She’s on my chest and I struggle to open my eyes against the blinding light seeping through the blinds that I forgot to close again last night. I gently push my cat off my chest and sit up rubbing the sleep and leftover makeup from last night out of my eyes. Fuck My head is pounding and I rub my temples slightly. I glance around the room. Wait. What?! There is a hand sticking out of the blankets to my left and I roll my eyes, mostly at myself, and get out of bed. I am completely naked and I roll my eyes again and grab a long t-shirt from off the floor. I glance at the figure again and start to remember my dream.
I did too much coke last night and drank six too many vodka and cranberry doubles. Fuck. Coke always makes my dreams all fucked up and weird. Zombies? I go into the bathroom and rinse my face and sit down to pee. I wonder what my dream means and I sit for a while pondering this when my roommate walks in.
“Hey.”
“…Hi.” My voice is hoarse and I’m not wearing any underwear so I glare at her as she fiddles with her eyeliner. I feel bad for the look but I feel like shit and probably don’t look any better. I finish my pee and brush past my roommate back into my room. I notice the guy in my bed again. Shit I had forgotten about him briefly. When the fuck is he going to wake up? I’m slightly annoyed because I want to be alone and listen to music really loudly but there is this dude interfering with that. I’m hung-over and selfish so I go over to the bed and poke him slightly in the side.
“Hello...? Morning!” He doesn’t budge and I frown to myself and glance around the room. I decide to clean up and shower and then try to wake him up again if he isn’t awake by then.
I grab some clothes from off the floor and smell them to make sure they are remotely clean and get underwear from my dresser and leave the room again. My roommate is nowhere to be found and I smile inwardly as I close the bathroom door and lock it. I throw the supposed clean clothes onto the counter and peel the t-shirt off. I turn the water on and sit on the side of the tub while it warms up. My dream keeps coming back to me. It was pretty violent at the end, and I actually died in it. Don’t people not usually die in their dreams? I shake off my confused thoughts and realize the water is at the perfect temperature so I turn the shower on full power and hop in. The water feels great and I sit under it for a good full five minutes without moving except to have the water beat down on my sore back in a different spot.
I finally decide that it’s probably a good idea to wash the smell of smoke out of my hair and I do so with leisure. I finally get done with my shower twenty minutes later and I step out grabbing the stained white towel off the rack. I put on lotion and throw on my clothes. I can hear my roommate playing music in her room really loudly and I wish I had put my music on first. Some top 40 shit pours through the walls and I scowl.
I step out of the bathroom in a wave of hot steam and good smelling shampoo and go back into my room. The guy in my bed hasn’t moved a muscle and now I’m really annoyed. I walk over to my desk and put on the first metal cd I can find in the mess of CDs on my desk and press play as I turn the volume up. A lot.
“Okay buddy! Time to get up! Rise and shine!” Nothing. What the fuck? Get UP! I’m super annoyed and I walk over to the bed with my hair still up in my towel and smack him upside the head.
“Hey lazy!” His head rolls over to the other side but he still doesn’t move. Umm… I think that’s a little weird; I hit him pretty hard. I can hear “Norma Jean” screaming in the background. The song that’s on is one of my favorites but I can’t move. I’m staring at this guy in my bed; I’m staring at his hand that I suddenly realize looks slightly purple. I slowly reach out a hand to the blanket that’s covering his face and body and whip it off.
He’s definitely dead. There is nothing alive about that. The guy’s stomach is empty. I mean, his stomach is missing, no intestines, no liver, no kidneys, not even a gall bladder. He had been scooped out like a ball of ice cream and there wasn’t even any blood. I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scream. I had to still be dreaming. Right? I look at the guy’s face and realize he doesn’t even look remotely familiar, cute, but unrecognizable. I couldn’t have been that fucked up last night to not remember someone…right? My mind is blank. I don’t know what to do. I can feel myself slowly but surely backing up towards the door. I swing around and bolt out of the door and slam it behind me. I look down at myself and realize I’m shaking. Where’s my phone? Shit. Do I call the police? I don’t even know what I would say. “Yes, hello, officer? Well, I woke up this morning and there was a dead guy in my bed. What? Why didn’t I call the police immediately? Well, the truth is, I was really hung-over and wanted to take a shower.” Yep, that will go over real well. SHIT. I don’t know what to do.
My roommate walks out of her room and stops at the sight of me. I must look weird. I am propped up awkwardly on my bedroom door my hair still up in a towel and probably a frightened look on my face.
“Um…are you okay?” I stare at her and shrug.
“Yeah.” She gives me a weird look and walks up putting a hand on my doorknob.
“I think I left my blush on your desk last night before we went out. Can I grab it?”
“NO!” I nearly shout it at her and she winces.
“I’m hung-over too, ya know? Don’t yell. Jesus, if you have a guy in there you should have just said so.” I stare at her and say nothing. “Whatever, just get it to me later.” With that said she whips around and goes down the stairs. I breathe a big sigh of relief but try to keep it quiet. What am I doing? It’s not like I killed the guy. I don’t need to hide it. I slide down my door into a sitting position. My legs stick out in front of me. I’m wearing my favorite jeans and they have big holes in the knees. I wrap my arms around my wife beater tank top and rub my arms. I’m not really cold but I need some sort of comfort. What is going on? I glance down and realize there is something sticking out of the pocket of my jeans and I reach for it, remembering that I had worn these jeans last night. What did I do last night?
I grab the paper and yank it open reading it quickly. It’s a phone number. No name, no description of where I might have gotten the paper, just a number. For the moment I couldn’t care less and I shove the paper back in my pocket as I stand up. I need to call the cops but something is holding me back. Shouldn’t I be a little bit more freaked out about this? I mean, there is a guy, not only dead but severely mutilated in my bed and all I can do is sit here. Before I can come to any conclusion I can hear my phone ringing from my room. I open the door and quickly slam it behind me and rummage through the pile of clothes and coats from last night. I search through all the pockets of my coat before finally finding it sitting on the floor by my bed. It’s my friend Kat. I was with her last night. I answer and turn around to stare at the body.
“Hello?”
“Yo Mila, How you feeling?”
“Um…Kat…? What exactly happened last night?” Kat starts laughing hysterically at my question. I reach over to the bed and cover the guy back up with my sheet and wonder how long I had been sleeping next to a dead guy and shudder.
“It doesn’t surprise me you can’t remember! Dude, you were so fucked up last night. I can’t even remember how much coke you did. I mean, it wasn’t just a matter of how many lines you did but how many grams you did.” Kat makes herself laugh again at her little joke and I tap my foot impatiently. “But seriously, you were super fucked up, you met some guy at James’ house and left with him. You said you were going back to your place so I didn’t argue.”
“Who was this guy?” I question her quickly.
“Oh, I dunno, just some guy. He was really hot though. Way to go baby. Did you do him?”
“Um…I don’t really know. Look, Kat…” Kat gasps and interrupts me.
“You don’t know? You dirty little ho! You totally did and don’t want to tell me. Fuck you! I know you did a cocktail of drugs last night but come on. Tell me!” I’m still in a vile mood and this outburst annoys me.
“Look, Kat. I’m serious. I don’t know what happened last night. I have to tell you something though.” Kat clears her throat and I take this as a sign to continue. “So, something happened…I got up this morning right? And dude is in my bed. So, I don’t remember but I think, whatever and go shower. I come back from showering a half hour later and dude is still not up. So I yell some and poke him some – No, not like that.” I add after Kat giggles at the word “poke”. “Kat, the guy is fucking DEAD! I don’t know what to do!” There is silence on the other end. “KAT! Fucking answer me!” Still silence then I hear a weird noise and Kat speaks slowly.
“Look, Mila, this isn’t funny…”
“I’m not fucking joking Kat, he’s in my fucking bed with his stomach scooped right out of him!”
“Stop, stop stop, that’s disgusting Mila and I don’t find this funny at fucking all.” I am quiet for a moment. I don’t know what to say to her to convince her. Suddenly I hear a choking noise coming from Kat’s end of the phone.
“Kat?” No answer, the noise goes on. “Kat? Are you okay? Kat?” I repeat her name a few more times before the noise slowly changes from a choking noise to a whimpering noise.
“Kat…?” Then nothing. I wait and repeat her name a few more times before I hear the audible click of the phone being disconnected. I look at my cell phone and “Call ended” blinks back at me before it goes back to my main screen. I should call the cops right? I should do something. What the fuck is going on here? I suddenly remember my dream and shudder again. I glance at the guy on my bed and wonder how long he has been dead.
I need a cigarette. I grab the pack out of the coat that hangs over my feet and rummage for a lighter. I find a yellow lighter and light the cigarette hanging out of my lips. I suck in hard and blow the smoke out through my nostrils and stare intently at the sheet under which lies the dead guy I may or may not have had sex with last night while fucked up on something or other. I lean against my desk, still staring, and tap my fingers on the old wood. Another drag and my night starts coming back to me a little bit. I remember going to James’ house. We were there all night. We had an ounce and two 30 packs. There were about 15 of us. I knew mostly everyone. There were a few kids I didn’t know. But, apparently, I think, they were friends with James. I remember doing massive amounts of drugs and talking to Kat all night. James and I had a good conversation outside smoking cigarettes. Torin had been there, my ex-boyfriend, we had made out in a corner and he had done a line off my stomach. Gross. What was I thinking? I don’t remember the end of the night though. I remember tidbits but not much in detail. I take another drag on the cigarette then tap the ash out into my trashcan. I’m totally making all my clothes smell right now. I shouldn’t be smoking inside. Fucking roommates. She’ll totally kill me if she comes in right now. And that’s when I realize I didn’t lock the door.
“I can smell your goddamn fucking smoke Mila! What the hell? I told you to smo-“ She is cut off the second her eyes register the bed and see me with the cigarettes against the desk staring at the bed. “What…?” I pull the sheet off of him. Dina screams and covers her mouth.
“I don’t know…I don’t know what happened Dina.” I look up at her and ash my cigarette again in the trashcan after taking a long drag on it. “Kat called, something is wrong over there, and there is a fucking dead guy in my bed. I don’t know. I don’t know. What the fuck is going on?” I’m rambling and Dina comes over.
“Okay, look, we need to call the cops. We need to tell them you just woke up, and you don’t know what’s going on, you didn’t do anything wrong. We’ll tell them you didn’t do anything wrong!” I stare at her aghast.
“But, I didn’t do anything wrong Dina. I didn’t do that.” Dina starts to back away from me and I roll my eyes. “You can’t be serious Dina, Oh my god.” Dina is nodding and trying to smile and stroke my arm. I brush her hand away from me. I’ll kill her. “Okay look, I’m gonna go over to Kat’s house. Don’t do anything until I get back.” I glare at her a second before I run downstairs for my purse. I get back into the room and the guy is still there. I somehow had hoped he would have just vanished. I start to put on a little bit of makeup and as I grab my coat I hear a noise outside my bedroom door.
“Um…Mila are you in there? Look, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted…”
“Dina, just come in.” I look at her as she enters and she has this weird look on her face and she is wringing her hands.
“I’m sorry about that, I..uh…just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
“Dina, what the fuck are you talking about? Look, it’s cool. I’ll figure this out. No big deal k?”
“Well, I mean…I was just really scared and uh…”
“Fuck. No. Fuck. Did you call the fucking cops Dina?! FUCK!” I am scurrying around and shoving my feet into my shoes and grabbing my purse and cigarettes. I could really use a cigarette right now. I glance out my window, it overlooks our front yard and I see from way down the street a cop car cruising down. “You fucking bitch! How could you do that?” Dina is backing up and stumbling over the clothes all over my floor.
“I-I-I’m sorry Mila. I mean it, really, I’m sorry. I just, I mean, I just didn’t know what to do, ya know? I was scared.”
“Oh fuck you.” I run to the back of the house into her room and slide her window open. She follows me in and tries to yell about how I should just turn myself in and how it would all be better that way. I don’t listen and I launch myself out of her window and into our backyard.
I’m on my feet and running. I’m jumping fences and running through yards filled with big trees and plastic slides. I can’t even think right now. I am running towards the Tavern. I know I can trust everyone there. My feet lead me into a street and a car slams on its brakes to avoid hitting me. Oh shit. Close call. I whisk past the pedestrians gawking at me in front of the Starbucks and round the corner into the alley. I can see the back of the Tavern from here. I can see Harold’s car parked in back. I slow down. I had been running for what seemed like forever. I lived about 20 minutes walking distance from the Tavern. Running, I had made it in less than five somehow.
I glance around the alley and don’t see anyone so I dart into the back of the Tavern and go up the stairs. I burst through the sheet that hangs over the stairway into the Bar. It’s brighter than the stairs and it takes my eyes a minute to adjust.
“Whoa buddy.” Harold stares at me from a barstool. “Jesus Mila, you look like shit.” I glare at him and go over and grab his shirt dragging him back into the darkened stairwell.
“Harold, look, something is going on and I need you to come to Kat’s house with me right now.” Harold gives me a look.
“Um…can I finish my beer?”
“It’s barely noon! How are you drinking? We need to go now.” Harold raises his hands and his eyebrows in defeat.
“Okay, let’s go.” Harold yells to the bartender that we would be back later and I’m already running down the stairs and out the door. Harold catches up and barely grabs my shirt as I run past his car. “Mila, I have a car, get in.” I nod and go around the side of the car and get in.
I need a cigarette. I grab the pack out of my pocket and as I do the little piece of paper from before, flutters out and onto the floor of the car. I grab it absently and search around for a lighter. Fuck. I can picture the lighter sitting on the side of my desk next to my CDs and I shut my eyes. I start to rub my temples and I groan audibly.
“What’s up Mila? What’s going on?” Harold hands me a lighter as I open my eyes and look at him. He is backing up into the alley and driving over potholes. My head smacks the top of his Geo and I rub it before lighting my cigarette. I hold the drag in for a second before talking. I pull my knees up to my chest and start telling Harold. I tell him what I remember from last night and everything that happened this morning. When I get to the part about Dina calling the cops he rolls his eyes. “Of course she did, that bitch. She doesn’t want anything to ruin her pretty little scholarship to Med School.” I nod and realize the ash on my cigarette is about to fall off and I roll the window down and flick the ash off. I take another long drag and peer sideways at Harold. He has an intense look on his face. As if he were confused yet very determined at the same time. He sees me watching him and his face relaxes a little “I don’t know Mila, I just don’t know. I think Dina is right. We might just have to go to the cops.” I shake my head frantically and before I can get a word in he continues. “I know you didn’t do anything wrong. I know that. I know you. I know you wouldn’t kill a guy for crissakes. But something happened to him and we aren’t in any place to figure it out ourselves. I mean look at us.” I do. I give him a long hard stare then glance around his trash filled car and down and my ratty jeans and the cigarette butt in my hand. It has dwindled down to nothing and I glare at it before flicking it out the window.
“We can’t go to the cops yet Harold. I need to figure out what happened last night so I can give them a straight story first. I need to remember everything so that I can prove to them I didn’t do it. Turn here.” We are almost to Kat’s place and Harold isn’t paying attention and he takes the turn a little too fast, scaring a pedestrian who give sus the finger as we speed by. “Let’s just figure out what is going on with Kat and see what she can tell me about last night okay?” Harold looks at me briefly before pulling into a shitty parallel parking spot and he turns the car off.
“Okay, but Mila, if you can’t remember any of it? What then? What if the cops catch up to us? They are gonna find us eventually.” I shake my head at him and get out of the car and he follows suit.
“It’s gonna be okay Har Bear.” I call him his old pet name I had for him when we dated and he looks down and doesn’t respond as he follows me up Kat’s stairs.
I knock on Kat’s door. I’m tapping my foot on the stairs as I hear something inside.
“Kat! You in there baby?” I yell in response and the door slams open.
“Jesus Mila, couldn’t you call first?” My mouth drops open. Kat is fine and she is staring at me with smeared black eyeliner under her eyes. She looks a little pissed. “I’m about to get in the shower.” She looks at Harold and visibly rolls her eyes in his direction and turns around. “Whatever, come in. I’ll only be a minute. What the fuck is going on by the way?” I look her up and down but she looks fine and she is already walking away down the hall so I follow her in with Harold at my heels.
I shut the door behind us as Kat disappears into her room.
“I don’t even know where to start.” I sigh and plop myself down onto Kat’s dirty red couch. There are cans of beer all over the place and I grab one to use as an ashtray as I grab my purse. “There’s a dead guy lying in my bed right now, I mean, that is unless the cops already took him away.” Kat’s head pops out of her room at this remark.
“What?” I rummage through my purse for my cigarettes but I’m not finding them so I pause and look up at her.
“I wasn’t kidding on the phone. I guess you must have gotten cut off earlier or something, but I woke up this morning with a dude dead in my bed. Hey, I rhymed.” I grin awkwardly as my hands wrap around my cigarettes in my purse and I pull out one and place it between my lips. Kat comes out in just underwear and a bra and grabs the cigarette from my lips as I am trying to light it. She takes a long drag on it and curls her knees up to her chest. She is staring off into space and I grab another cigarette and light it. Harold has been quiet this whole time. He is sitting on the edge of a chair that is piled with dirty clothes and trash. I look over at him and he gives me a forced smile.
Chapter 2
I wake up and my cat is suffocating me as usual. She’s on my chest and I struggle to open my eyes against the blinding light seeping through the blinds that I forgot to close again last night. I gently push my cat off my chest and sit up rubbing the sleep and leftover makeup from last night out of my eyes. Fuck My head is pounding and I rub my temples slightly. I glance around the room. Wait. What?! There is a hand sticking out of the blankets to my left and I roll my eyes, mostly at myself, and get out of bed. I am completely naked and I roll my eyes again and grab a long t-shirt from off the floor. I glance at the figure again and start to remember my dream.
I did too much coke last night and drank six too many vodka and cranberry doubles. Fuck. Coke always makes my dreams all fucked up and weird. Zombies? I go into the bathroom and rinse my face and sit down to pee. I wonder what my dream means and I sit for a while pondering this when my roommate walks in.
“Hey.”
“…Hi.” My voice is hoarse and I’m not wearing any underwear so I glare at her as she fiddles with her eyeliner. I feel bad for the look but I feel like shit and probably don’t look any better. I finish my pee and brush past my roommate back into my room. I notice the guy in my bed again. Shit I had forgotten about him briefly. When the fuck is he going to wake up? I’m slightly annoyed because I want to be alone and listen to music really loudly but there is this dude interfering with that. I’m hung-over and selfish so I go over to the bed and poke him slightly in the side.
“Hello...? Morning!” He doesn’t budge and I frown to myself and glance around the room. I decide to clean up and shower and then try to wake him up again if he isn’t awake by then.
I grab some clothes from off the floor and smell them to make sure they are remotely clean and get underwear from my dresser and leave the room again. My roommate is nowhere to be found and I smile inwardly as I close the bathroom door and lock it. I throw the supposed clean clothes onto the counter and peel the t-shirt off. I turn the water on and sit on the side of the tub while it warms up. My dream keeps coming back to me. It was pretty violent at the end, and I actually died in it. Don’t people not usually die in their dreams? I shake off my confused thoughts and realize the water is at the perfect temperature so I turn the shower on full power and hop in. The water feels great and I sit under it for a good full five minutes without moving except to have the water beat down on my sore back in a different spot.
I finally decide that it’s probably a good idea to wash the smell of smoke out of my hair and I do so with leisure. I finally get done with my shower twenty minutes later and I step out grabbing the stained white towel off the rack. I put on lotion and throw on my clothes. I can hear my roommate playing music in her room really loudly and I wish I had put my music on first. Some top 40 shit pours through the walls and I scowl.
I step out of the bathroom in a wave of hot steam and good smelling shampoo and go back into my room. The guy in my bed hasn’t moved a muscle and now I’m really annoyed. I walk over to my desk and put on the first metal cd I can find in the mess of CDs on my desk and press play as I turn the volume up. A lot.
“Okay buddy! Time to get up! Rise and shine!” Nothing. What the fuck? Get UP! I’m super annoyed and I walk over to the bed with my hair still up in my towel and smack him upside the head.
“Hey lazy!” His head rolls over to the other side but he still doesn’t move. Umm… I think that’s a little weird; I hit him pretty hard. I can hear “Norma Jean” screaming in the background. The song that’s on is one of my favorites but I can’t move. I’m staring at this guy in my bed; I’m staring at his hand that I suddenly realize looks slightly purple. I slowly reach out a hand to the blanket that’s covering his face and body and whip it off.
He’s definitely dead. There is nothing alive about that. The guy’s stomach is empty. I mean, his stomach is missing, no intestines, no liver, no kidneys, not even a gall bladder. He had been scooped out like a ball of ice cream and there wasn’t even any blood. I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or scream. I had to still be dreaming. Right? I look at the guy’s face and realize he doesn’t even look remotely familiar, cute, but unrecognizable. I couldn’t have been that fucked up last night to not remember someone…right? My mind is blank. I don’t know what to do. I can feel myself slowly but surely backing up towards the door. I swing around and bolt out of the door and slam it behind me. I look down at myself and realize I’m shaking. Where’s my phone? Shit. Do I call the police? I don’t even know what I would say. “Yes, hello, officer? Well, I woke up this morning and there was a dead guy in my bed. What? Why didn’t I call the police immediately? Well, the truth is, I was really hung-over and wanted to take a shower.” Yep, that will go over real well. SHIT. I don’t know what to do.
My roommate walks out of her room and stops at the sight of me. I must look weird. I am propped up awkwardly on my bedroom door my hair still up in a towel and probably a frightened look on my face.
“Um…are you okay?” I stare at her and shrug.
“Yeah.” She gives me a weird look and walks up putting a hand on my doorknob.
“I think I left my blush on your desk last night before we went out. Can I grab it?”
“NO!” I nearly shout it at her and she winces.
“I’m hung-over too, ya know? Don’t yell. Jesus, if you have a guy in there you should have just said so.” I stare at her and say nothing. “Whatever, just get it to me later.” With that said she whips around and goes down the stairs. I breathe a big sigh of relief but try to keep it quiet. What am I doing? It’s not like I killed the guy. I don’t need to hide it. I slide down my door into a sitting position. My legs stick out in front of me. I’m wearing my favorite jeans and they have big holes in the knees. I wrap my arms around my wife beater tank top and rub my arms. I’m not really cold but I need some sort of comfort. What is going on? I glance down and realize there is something sticking out of the pocket of my jeans and I reach for it, remembering that I had worn these jeans last night. What did I do last night?
I grab the paper and yank it open reading it quickly. It’s a phone number. No name, no description of where I might have gotten the paper, just a number. For the moment I couldn’t care less and I shove the paper back in my pocket as I stand up. I need to call the cops but something is holding me back. Shouldn’t I be a little bit more freaked out about this? I mean, there is a guy, not only dead but severely mutilated in my bed and all I can do is sit here. Before I can come to any conclusion I can hear my phone ringing from my room. I open the door and quickly slam it behind me and rummage through the pile of clothes and coats from last night. I search through all the pockets of my coat before finally finding it sitting on the floor by my bed. It’s my friend Kat. I was with her last night. I answer and turn around to stare at the body.
“Hello?”
“Yo Mila, How you feeling?”
“Um…Kat…? What exactly happened last night?” Kat starts laughing hysterically at my question. I reach over to the bed and cover the guy back up with my sheet and wonder how long I had been sleeping next to a dead guy and shudder.
“It doesn’t surprise me you can’t remember! Dude, you were so fucked up last night. I can’t even remember how much coke you did. I mean, it wasn’t just a matter of how many lines you did but how many grams you did.” Kat makes herself laugh again at her little joke and I tap my foot impatiently. “But seriously, you were super fucked up, you met some guy at James’ house and left with him. You said you were going back to your place so I didn’t argue.”
“Who was this guy?” I question her quickly.
“Oh, I dunno, just some guy. He was really hot though. Way to go baby. Did you do him?”
“Um…I don’t really know. Look, Kat…” Kat gasps and interrupts me.
“You don’t know? You dirty little ho! You totally did and don’t want to tell me. Fuck you! I know you did a cocktail of drugs last night but come on. Tell me!” I’m still in a vile mood and this outburst annoys me.
“Look, Kat. I’m serious. I don’t know what happened last night. I have to tell you something though.” Kat clears her throat and I take this as a sign to continue. “So, something happened…I got up this morning right? And dude is in my bed. So, I don’t remember but I think, whatever and go shower. I come back from showering a half hour later and dude is still not up. So I yell some and poke him some – No, not like that.” I add after Kat giggles at the word “poke”. “Kat, the guy is fucking DEAD! I don’t know what to do!” There is silence on the other end. “KAT! Fucking answer me!” Still silence then I hear a weird noise and Kat speaks slowly.
“Look, Mila, this isn’t funny…”
“I’m not fucking joking Kat, he’s in my fucking bed with his stomach scooped right out of him!”
“Stop, stop stop, that’s disgusting Mila and I don’t find this funny at fucking all.” I am quiet for a moment. I don’t know what to say to her to convince her. Suddenly I hear a choking noise coming from Kat’s end of the phone.
“Kat?” No answer, the noise goes on. “Kat? Are you okay? Kat?” I repeat her name a few more times before the noise slowly changes from a choking noise to a whimpering noise.
“Kat…?” Then nothing. I wait and repeat her name a few more times before I hear the audible click of the phone being disconnected. I look at my cell phone and “Call ended” blinks back at me before it goes back to my main screen. I should call the cops right? I should do something. What the fuck is going on here? I suddenly remember my dream and shudder again. I glance at the guy on my bed and wonder how long he has been dead.
I need a cigarette. I grab the pack out of the coat that hangs over my feet and rummage for a lighter. I find a yellow lighter and light the cigarette hanging out of my lips. I suck in hard and blow the smoke out through my nostrils and stare intently at the sheet under which lies the dead guy I may or may not have had sex with last night while fucked up on something or other. I lean against my desk, still staring, and tap my fingers on the old wood. Another drag and my night starts coming back to me a little bit. I remember going to James’ house. We were there all night. We had an ounce and two 30 packs. There were about 15 of us. I knew mostly everyone. There were a few kids I didn’t know. But, apparently, I think, they were friends with James. I remember doing massive amounts of drugs and talking to Kat all night. James and I had a good conversation outside smoking cigarettes. Torin had been there, my ex-boyfriend, we had made out in a corner and he had done a line off my stomach. Gross. What was I thinking? I don’t remember the end of the night though. I remember tidbits but not much in detail. I take another drag on the cigarette then tap the ash out into my trashcan. I’m totally making all my clothes smell right now. I shouldn’t be smoking inside. Fucking roommates. She’ll totally kill me if she comes in right now. And that’s when I realize I didn’t lock the door.
“I can smell your goddamn fucking smoke Mila! What the hell? I told you to smo-“ She is cut off the second her eyes register the bed and see me with the cigarettes against the desk staring at the bed. “What…?” I pull the sheet off of him. Dina screams and covers her mouth.
“I don’t know…I don’t know what happened Dina.” I look up at her and ash my cigarette again in the trashcan after taking a long drag on it. “Kat called, something is wrong over there, and there is a fucking dead guy in my bed. I don’t know. I don’t know. What the fuck is going on?” I’m rambling and Dina comes over.
“Okay, look, we need to call the cops. We need to tell them you just woke up, and you don’t know what’s going on, you didn’t do anything wrong. We’ll tell them you didn’t do anything wrong!” I stare at her aghast.
“But, I didn’t do anything wrong Dina. I didn’t do that.” Dina starts to back away from me and I roll my eyes. “You can’t be serious Dina, Oh my god.” Dina is nodding and trying to smile and stroke my arm. I brush her hand away from me. I’ll kill her. “Okay look, I’m gonna go over to Kat’s house. Don’t do anything until I get back.” I glare at her a second before I run downstairs for my purse. I get back into the room and the guy is still there. I somehow had hoped he would have just vanished. I start to put on a little bit of makeup and as I grab my coat I hear a noise outside my bedroom door.
“Um…Mila are you in there? Look, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted…”
“Dina, just come in.” I look at her as she enters and she has this weird look on her face and she is wringing her hands.
“I’m sorry about that, I..uh…just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
“Dina, what the fuck are you talking about? Look, it’s cool. I’ll figure this out. No big deal k?”
“Well, I mean…I was just really scared and uh…”
“Fuck. No. Fuck. Did you call the fucking cops Dina?! FUCK!” I am scurrying around and shoving my feet into my shoes and grabbing my purse and cigarettes. I could really use a cigarette right now. I glance out my window, it overlooks our front yard and I see from way down the street a cop car cruising down. “You fucking bitch! How could you do that?” Dina is backing up and stumbling over the clothes all over my floor.
“I-I-I’m sorry Mila. I mean it, really, I’m sorry. I just, I mean, I just didn’t know what to do, ya know? I was scared.”
“Oh fuck you.” I run to the back of the house into her room and slide her window open. She follows me in and tries to yell about how I should just turn myself in and how it would all be better that way. I don’t listen and I launch myself out of her window and into our backyard.
I’m on my feet and running. I’m jumping fences and running through yards filled with big trees and plastic slides. I can’t even think right now. I am running towards the Tavern. I know I can trust everyone there. My feet lead me into a street and a car slams on its brakes to avoid hitting me. Oh shit. Close call. I whisk past the pedestrians gawking at me in front of the Starbucks and round the corner into the alley. I can see the back of the Tavern from here. I can see Harold’s car parked in back. I slow down. I had been running for what seemed like forever. I lived about 20 minutes walking distance from the Tavern. Running, I had made it in less than five somehow.
I glance around the alley and don’t see anyone so I dart into the back of the Tavern and go up the stairs. I burst through the sheet that hangs over the stairway into the Bar. It’s brighter than the stairs and it takes my eyes a minute to adjust.
“Whoa buddy.” Harold stares at me from a barstool. “Jesus Mila, you look like shit.” I glare at him and go over and grab his shirt dragging him back into the darkened stairwell.
“Harold, look, something is going on and I need you to come to Kat’s house with me right now.” Harold gives me a look.
“Um…can I finish my beer?”
“It’s barely noon! How are you drinking? We need to go now.” Harold raises his hands and his eyebrows in defeat.
“Okay, let’s go.” Harold yells to the bartender that we would be back later and I’m already running down the stairs and out the door. Harold catches up and barely grabs my shirt as I run past his car. “Mila, I have a car, get in.” I nod and go around the side of the car and get in.
I need a cigarette. I grab the pack out of my pocket and as I do the little piece of paper from before, flutters out and onto the floor of the car. I grab it absently and search around for a lighter. Fuck. I can picture the lighter sitting on the side of my desk next to my CDs and I shut my eyes. I start to rub my temples and I groan audibly.
“What’s up Mila? What’s going on?” Harold hands me a lighter as I open my eyes and look at him. He is backing up into the alley and driving over potholes. My head smacks the top of his Geo and I rub it before lighting my cigarette. I hold the drag in for a second before talking. I pull my knees up to my chest and start telling Harold. I tell him what I remember from last night and everything that happened this morning. When I get to the part about Dina calling the cops he rolls his eyes. “Of course she did, that bitch. She doesn’t want anything to ruin her pretty little scholarship to Med School.” I nod and realize the ash on my cigarette is about to fall off and I roll the window down and flick the ash off. I take another long drag and peer sideways at Harold. He has an intense look on his face. As if he were confused yet very determined at the same time. He sees me watching him and his face relaxes a little “I don’t know Mila, I just don’t know. I think Dina is right. We might just have to go to the cops.” I shake my head frantically and before I can get a word in he continues. “I know you didn’t do anything wrong. I know that. I know you. I know you wouldn’t kill a guy for crissakes. But something happened to him and we aren’t in any place to figure it out ourselves. I mean look at us.” I do. I give him a long hard stare then glance around his trash filled car and down and my ratty jeans and the cigarette butt in my hand. It has dwindled down to nothing and I glare at it before flicking it out the window.
“We can’t go to the cops yet Harold. I need to figure out what happened last night so I can give them a straight story first. I need to remember everything so that I can prove to them I didn’t do it. Turn here.” We are almost to Kat’s place and Harold isn’t paying attention and he takes the turn a little too fast, scaring a pedestrian who give sus the finger as we speed by. “Let’s just figure out what is going on with Kat and see what she can tell me about last night okay?” Harold looks at me briefly before pulling into a shitty parallel parking spot and he turns the car off.
“Okay, but Mila, if you can’t remember any of it? What then? What if the cops catch up to us? They are gonna find us eventually.” I shake my head at him and get out of the car and he follows suit.
“It’s gonna be okay Har Bear.” I call him his old pet name I had for him when we dated and he looks down and doesn’t respond as he follows me up Kat’s stairs.
I knock on Kat’s door. I’m tapping my foot on the stairs as I hear something inside.
“Kat! You in there baby?” I yell in response and the door slams open.
“Jesus Mila, couldn’t you call first?” My mouth drops open. Kat is fine and she is staring at me with smeared black eyeliner under her eyes. She looks a little pissed. “I’m about to get in the shower.” She looks at Harold and visibly rolls her eyes in his direction and turns around. “Whatever, come in. I’ll only be a minute. What the fuck is going on by the way?” I look her up and down but she looks fine and she is already walking away down the hall so I follow her in with Harold at my heels.
I shut the door behind us as Kat disappears into her room.
“I don’t even know where to start.” I sigh and plop myself down onto Kat’s dirty red couch. There are cans of beer all over the place and I grab one to use as an ashtray as I grab my purse. “There’s a dead guy lying in my bed right now, I mean, that is unless the cops already took him away.” Kat’s head pops out of her room at this remark.
“What?” I rummage through my purse for my cigarettes but I’m not finding them so I pause and look up at her.
“I wasn’t kidding on the phone. I guess you must have gotten cut off earlier or something, but I woke up this morning with a dude dead in my bed. Hey, I rhymed.” I grin awkwardly as my hands wrap around my cigarettes in my purse and I pull out one and place it between my lips. Kat comes out in just underwear and a bra and grabs the cigarette from my lips as I am trying to light it. She takes a long drag on it and curls her knees up to her chest. She is staring off into space and I grab another cigarette and light it. Harold has been quiet this whole time. He is sitting on the edge of a chair that is piled with dirty clothes and trash. I look over at him and he gives me a forced smile.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
I hold the gun in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I’m not sure whether or not the gun is going to come in handy but I know this cigarette definitely will. I take a long, slow drag on the cheap cigarette with slight pink lip marks around the butt and grimace. My head is pounding. The cigarette calms me though and I release the tight grip on the gun a little.
I’m leaning against a wall that is for sure getting my already dirty white shirt even dirtier and I sigh audibly. I’m wondering if they can smell my cigarette smoke. The creatures that is, those things are the reason I have the gun. They are the reason I am alone, stressed out and smoking a cigarette. I quit smoking eight years ago.
Another long drag on the cigarette before I look at it in disgust and flick it on the ground. I pull my self to a standing position and slowly grind out the flickering remnants of the cherry on the cigarette that now lies next to my foot. I do a quick glance around and start walking. My feet are taking me nowhere in particular and I hold the gun tight in my left hand. I need my right hand for hitting. I had always wanted to get into a real fight when I was little. Well, here was my chance. Not exactly what I imagined when I was seven and watching my brothers beat up the neighbor boy for stealing my headphones.
I wish I were back there as I crawl up a hill and over some train tracks. Back to the days where everything was simple and everything was black and white. There was no grey, and it’s the grey that can hurt you the most.
I start to follow the train tracks figuring they should lead me to someone eventually and I grab a candy bar out of my back pocket. I hate candy. I always have, even as a child, my brothers would try to get me to eat a snickers and I would spit it back out at them.
I bite down on some sort of hard yet chewy thing and gag slightly as I chew on it. All the sugar makes me want to throw up but god knows I’ve done enough of that in the past few days. All the death around me made me a bit queasy. I was in Medical school at the University of Washington. It’s the best damn medical school in the country and the sight of a guy with his head chopped off and intestines spilled all over the mall parking lot was enough for me to throw up in the abandoned BMW convertible that had been conveniently to my left.
I throw the wrapper from the candy bar into a trashcan as I descend from where the train tracks had been into a Train station. I stop mid walk and listen. I try to imagine a little dog pricking its ears up. I pretend I’m the little dog as I slowly creep by the ticket booth and towards the bathroom marked with a big white woman stick figure.
I hear a slight noise as I reach the door and I bring the gun into my right hand and put my left hand up. I push the door with my left foot in a little bit and glance around. Nothing. All I see are stark green walls and those gross mirrors that distort your face if you are more than a foot away. I push the door open a bit more and stare at the light switch jeering at me from across the room. Who puts a light switch all the way across the room? I make sure the door is open enough so the light from the station comes in and I creep in. I move in a circle with the gun up as I move towards the other side of the room to the light switch. I wrinkle my nose up at the sick sterile smell. I would have thought it would have smelled like stale piss. But no, it smells like a hospital. I get to the switch and flip the light on quickly with my back against the wall and gun outstretched. Another small noise and I swirl around towards it. It’s coming from one of the stalls. Aw shit, I hope it’s not another kid with his arm half gnawed off. I can’t handle that. I tiptoe over to a door; I take a deep breath and kick the door open to reveal a cat sitting on one side of the toilet. It’s tail is moving slowly back a forth hitting a plastic bag that lies unwanted next to it.
I laugh as I see the cat and it immediately hops down and starts rubbing against my legs. I reach down and start petting it. “Hey kitty, how you doing baby? You doing okay?” I pet it some more and a smile comes over my face briefly. I breathe a long sigh of relief and go into one of the stalls to relieve myself.
The cat follows me into the stall and out of it and as I start to wash my hands and check my blood covered self in the mirror it jumps up onto the sink and rubs against my belly. I pet it a bit more and move to the other sink to splash water on my face and arms. I close my eyes and start rubbing my face vigorously with my hands, scraping at the dried blood. I sense something behind me and scramble to get the soap out of my eyes when I’m hit. I don’t know what’s going on. I can barely see out of one eye. I finally grasp onto the fact in my head that there is a creature in the room with me and I don’t know where my gun is. I set it down somewhere. I can’t remember where. I’m thrown up against the green walls and they no longer look sterile I notice, the paint is actually peeling away slightly. I notice all this before I hit the ground and I scramble into one of the stalls as the creature lunges for my leg. I slam the stall door closed and splash toilet water on my face and eyes so that I can see again. I get my bearings and wrack my brain for the location of the gun. Bingo. I remember. It’s sitting on top of the toilet paper dispenser two stalls over. I jump onto the toilet in my stall and peer out at the creature banging on the door to the stall. “What bitch? You want some food? Fuck you.” I close the door to the stall next to me quickly and jump over and slam the lock in. I hear the creature wail. I thank god or who the fuck ever it is that these things aren’t very bright as I launch myself over the next stall wall and slam the door shut again while I grab the gun. Okay, think, okay. I wonder if the cat is okay as I make the decision to shoot the creature from standing on the toilet. I pull myself up onto the toilet and as I do I realize I can’t hear the creature anymore. This scares me and I whip my head up to glance around the room from the stall. I can’t see the creature and this makes me start to shake. Fuck. I do another once over the bathroom and I step down from the toilet. I hold the gun out with the tightest grip I can manage and I unlock the door. Nothing. I open the door inwardly towards myself. Nothing. There is nothing jumping at me, nothing trying to eat me. I take a step out of the stall and that’s when I’m hit. I can hear the noise of teeth on bone before I can feel it. I eventually realize it’s my arm that is making the noise against this creature’s teeth and I scream out. I can’t hear my own voice. I scream again and still can’t hear anything. I realize that the creature is on top of me, it ripping at my stomach. I can’t stop it; it’s ripping at my skin and it hurts. It hurts so badly. But there’s nothing I can do and the gun isn’t in my hand. I can’t see the gun anywhere.
I look up at the lights on the ceiling. They are fluorescent. Normally, I would have despised the fact that I was about the die under fluorescent lights, but right now, they looked kind of pretty, and then black.
I hold the gun in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I’m not sure whether or not the gun is going to come in handy but I know this cigarette definitely will. I take a long, slow drag on the cheap cigarette with slight pink lip marks around the butt and grimace. My head is pounding. The cigarette calms me though and I release the tight grip on the gun a little.
I’m leaning against a wall that is for sure getting my already dirty white shirt even dirtier and I sigh audibly. I’m wondering if they can smell my cigarette smoke. The creatures that is, those things are the reason I have the gun. They are the reason I am alone, stressed out and smoking a cigarette. I quit smoking eight years ago.
Another long drag on the cigarette before I look at it in disgust and flick it on the ground. I pull my self to a standing position and slowly grind out the flickering remnants of the cherry on the cigarette that now lies next to my foot. I do a quick glance around and start walking. My feet are taking me nowhere in particular and I hold the gun tight in my left hand. I need my right hand for hitting. I had always wanted to get into a real fight when I was little. Well, here was my chance. Not exactly what I imagined when I was seven and watching my brothers beat up the neighbor boy for stealing my headphones.
I wish I were back there as I crawl up a hill and over some train tracks. Back to the days where everything was simple and everything was black and white. There was no grey, and it’s the grey that can hurt you the most.
I start to follow the train tracks figuring they should lead me to someone eventually and I grab a candy bar out of my back pocket. I hate candy. I always have, even as a child, my brothers would try to get me to eat a snickers and I would spit it back out at them.
I bite down on some sort of hard yet chewy thing and gag slightly as I chew on it. All the sugar makes me want to throw up but god knows I’ve done enough of that in the past few days. All the death around me made me a bit queasy. I was in Medical school at the University of Washington. It’s the best damn medical school in the country and the sight of a guy with his head chopped off and intestines spilled all over the mall parking lot was enough for me to throw up in the abandoned BMW convertible that had been conveniently to my left.
I throw the wrapper from the candy bar into a trashcan as I descend from where the train tracks had been into a Train station. I stop mid walk and listen. I try to imagine a little dog pricking its ears up. I pretend I’m the little dog as I slowly creep by the ticket booth and towards the bathroom marked with a big white woman stick figure.
I hear a slight noise as I reach the door and I bring the gun into my right hand and put my left hand up. I push the door with my left foot in a little bit and glance around. Nothing. All I see are stark green walls and those gross mirrors that distort your face if you are more than a foot away. I push the door open a bit more and stare at the light switch jeering at me from across the room. Who puts a light switch all the way across the room? I make sure the door is open enough so the light from the station comes in and I creep in. I move in a circle with the gun up as I move towards the other side of the room to the light switch. I wrinkle my nose up at the sick sterile smell. I would have thought it would have smelled like stale piss. But no, it smells like a hospital. I get to the switch and flip the light on quickly with my back against the wall and gun outstretched. Another small noise and I swirl around towards it. It’s coming from one of the stalls. Aw shit, I hope it’s not another kid with his arm half gnawed off. I can’t handle that. I tiptoe over to a door; I take a deep breath and kick the door open to reveal a cat sitting on one side of the toilet. It’s tail is moving slowly back a forth hitting a plastic bag that lies unwanted next to it.
I laugh as I see the cat and it immediately hops down and starts rubbing against my legs. I reach down and start petting it. “Hey kitty, how you doing baby? You doing okay?” I pet it some more and a smile comes over my face briefly. I breathe a long sigh of relief and go into one of the stalls to relieve myself.
The cat follows me into the stall and out of it and as I start to wash my hands and check my blood covered self in the mirror it jumps up onto the sink and rubs against my belly. I pet it a bit more and move to the other sink to splash water on my face and arms. I close my eyes and start rubbing my face vigorously with my hands, scraping at the dried blood. I sense something behind me and scramble to get the soap out of my eyes when I’m hit. I don’t know what’s going on. I can barely see out of one eye. I finally grasp onto the fact in my head that there is a creature in the room with me and I don’t know where my gun is. I set it down somewhere. I can’t remember where. I’m thrown up against the green walls and they no longer look sterile I notice, the paint is actually peeling away slightly. I notice all this before I hit the ground and I scramble into one of the stalls as the creature lunges for my leg. I slam the stall door closed and splash toilet water on my face and eyes so that I can see again. I get my bearings and wrack my brain for the location of the gun. Bingo. I remember. It’s sitting on top of the toilet paper dispenser two stalls over. I jump onto the toilet in my stall and peer out at the creature banging on the door to the stall. “What bitch? You want some food? Fuck you.” I close the door to the stall next to me quickly and jump over and slam the lock in. I hear the creature wail. I thank god or who the fuck ever it is that these things aren’t very bright as I launch myself over the next stall wall and slam the door shut again while I grab the gun. Okay, think, okay. I wonder if the cat is okay as I make the decision to shoot the creature from standing on the toilet. I pull myself up onto the toilet and as I do I realize I can’t hear the creature anymore. This scares me and I whip my head up to glance around the room from the stall. I can’t see the creature and this makes me start to shake. Fuck. I do another once over the bathroom and I step down from the toilet. I hold the gun out with the tightest grip I can manage and I unlock the door. Nothing. I open the door inwardly towards myself. Nothing. There is nothing jumping at me, nothing trying to eat me. I take a step out of the stall and that’s when I’m hit. I can hear the noise of teeth on bone before I can feel it. I eventually realize it’s my arm that is making the noise against this creature’s teeth and I scream out. I can’t hear my own voice. I scream again and still can’t hear anything. I realize that the creature is on top of me, it ripping at my stomach. I can’t stop it; it’s ripping at my skin and it hurts. It hurts so badly. But there’s nothing I can do and the gun isn’t in my hand. I can’t see the gun anywhere.
I look up at the lights on the ceiling. They are fluorescent. Normally, I would have despised the fact that I was about the die under fluorescent lights, but right now, they looked kind of pretty, and then black.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Place
peacocks and vines
winding around pictures
of smiles and things
forgotten
things you try to remember
by placing them
above the memories
that belong to other people
next to the machine
that spits out your thoughts
and your bullshit
blinking red
tells you when you have to
wake.
up.
a photo
black and white
she is so beautiful
and you are now older
than she will ever be
next to a machine
that spits out
other people’s thoughts
and bullshit
on top of fake brown lines
dirty fabric
where cords wrap themselves
around your feet
as you spout out
your ideas
into a piece of metal
wondering who will hear
them first.
you suppose this chair
should support you
in your endeavors
reaching for the piece of love
wrapped tight in tin foil
the only thing
that will always love you back
no matter how hard you cry.
unwrapped it looks cold,
calm, and from somewhere
you hear a voice
saying:
Tell me a secret
Tell me something
I don’t know
So you do.
and this chair will remain
in your memory
forever.
winding around pictures
of smiles and things
forgotten
things you try to remember
by placing them
above the memories
that belong to other people
next to the machine
that spits out your thoughts
and your bullshit
blinking red
tells you when you have to
wake.
up.
a photo
black and white
she is so beautiful
and you are now older
than she will ever be
next to a machine
that spits out
other people’s thoughts
and bullshit
on top of fake brown lines
dirty fabric
where cords wrap themselves
around your feet
as you spout out
your ideas
into a piece of metal
wondering who will hear
them first.
you suppose this chair
should support you
in your endeavors
reaching for the piece of love
wrapped tight in tin foil
the only thing
that will always love you back
no matter how hard you cry.
unwrapped it looks cold,
calm, and from somewhere
you hear a voice
saying:
Tell me a secret
Tell me something
I don’t know
So you do.
and this chair will remain
in your memory
forever.
Take 888
underneath skies
of prayers and wishes
dreams and thoughts
ideas of communication
never fully being
remembered
among the green blades
and eyes shut so tight
they see so far in
they can’t see
the real and the reel
you wonder what color
these eyes are
underneath an ocean
of voices and cries
pleas and demands
thoughts of comprehension
that never really wanted
to be understood
of prayers and wishes
dreams and thoughts
ideas of communication
never fully being
remembered
among the green blades
and eyes shut so tight
they see so far in
they can’t see
the real and the reel
you wonder what color
these eyes are
underneath an ocean
of voices and cries
pleas and demands
thoughts of comprehension
that never really wanted
to be understood
Monday, January 22, 2007
Stars and Heart Problems
So, it has been awhile since I have posted anything new.
Sorry to disappoint anyone who actually checks this.
But, I'm back.
Rejoice.
For I am back in school, and writing again.
I kind of had this period over break where I was unable to write. My journal was right next to my bed. Yet, no matter how much I stared at it, nothing would come.
This is why I am loving school. It puts me in situations where I have to write. And it usually comes up satisfactory. And even if not, I am forced to sit down and really look at my piece. Therefore, making me have to go back and edit. First thought is not always best though. Though, it can be fun to see what you come up with.
I have been thinking a lot about the post I posted back in the middle of December about the situation I had with that guy. Now, If you know me, you know that I am not a person to hold grudges. I'm pretty sure it's actually physically impossible for me. So this guy, I found out recently, was trying to get in contact with me a few weeks ago. My friend, fortunately, did not give him my number. I have not seen him as of yet on campus but it is inevitable. I am not really scared, per se, to see him. I am more just undeniably curious. I am a curious person, so curious that I have been tempted to just show up at his house and ask him: "So...about that whole asking for my number thing, what did you need to tell me?" I mean, there is an endless list in my head of possibilities for this conversation that while undoubtedly arise. Every time I am on campus all I can think is: "Will I see him?". My heart has been jumping at every single person walking by me and I'm getting afraid i may have a severe heart attack soon. Pretty much, the story is that I am driving myself crazy. I want to know, damnit. So if any of you know him please tell him I want to know WTF.
A song about a six pointed star
I want to tell you something
This is not a story
I don’t tell stories
I write like I talk
I am told.
I won’t tell you elaborate stories
There may be details
Of
Things that may have happened
But you will never know
The story
I will never tell you
I will give you crumbs
But never the whole loaf of bread
I want to tell you things
I want to tell you stories
Sometimes
But I won’t
and you won’t listen
and you won’t hear
and I won’t tell you a story
about a time
when I was alone
a time when I was vulnerable
and scared
about a time when
all I wanted was to be held
but the shadows gave me
more comfort
than he did
I want to tell you something
I am human
And whatever I tell you
Is me
It will never be anything else.
Interesting story about this song/poem/piece: I wrote this as a "song" for my Intro to Creative Writing class. We had to read Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself" from Leaves of Grass and write our own "song". So, I write this. Exactly how you see it. Only after the word "Sometimes" it went up into the next column on the same page. I made it into two columns instead of two pages. So, I read it in class and my instructor then asks me to pick a good friend in class. I pick someone and he asks me to read the first column and my friend to read the second column and see how it went. So back and forth you see? It was really interesting the way it went. Try reading it the two different ways and let me know what you think. I love feedback on my work so any comment or suggestions or criticism is greatly appreciated. (Ex: "I want to tell you something" goes down to: "But I won't" and so on and so forth)
Sorry to disappoint anyone who actually checks this.
But, I'm back.
Rejoice.
For I am back in school, and writing again.
I kind of had this period over break where I was unable to write. My journal was right next to my bed. Yet, no matter how much I stared at it, nothing would come.
This is why I am loving school. It puts me in situations where I have to write. And it usually comes up satisfactory. And even if not, I am forced to sit down and really look at my piece. Therefore, making me have to go back and edit. First thought is not always best though. Though, it can be fun to see what you come up with.
I have been thinking a lot about the post I posted back in the middle of December about the situation I had with that guy. Now, If you know me, you know that I am not a person to hold grudges. I'm pretty sure it's actually physically impossible for me. So this guy, I found out recently, was trying to get in contact with me a few weeks ago. My friend, fortunately, did not give him my number. I have not seen him as of yet on campus but it is inevitable. I am not really scared, per se, to see him. I am more just undeniably curious. I am a curious person, so curious that I have been tempted to just show up at his house and ask him: "So...about that whole asking for my number thing, what did you need to tell me?" I mean, there is an endless list in my head of possibilities for this conversation that while undoubtedly arise. Every time I am on campus all I can think is: "Will I see him?". My heart has been jumping at every single person walking by me and I'm getting afraid i may have a severe heart attack soon. Pretty much, the story is that I am driving myself crazy. I want to know, damnit. So if any of you know him please tell him I want to know WTF.
A song about a six pointed star
I want to tell you something
This is not a story
I don’t tell stories
I write like I talk
I am told.
I won’t tell you elaborate stories
There may be details
Of
Things that may have happened
But you will never know
The story
I will never tell you
I will give you crumbs
But never the whole loaf of bread
I want to tell you things
I want to tell you stories
Sometimes
But I won’t
and you won’t listen
and you won’t hear
and I won’t tell you a story
about a time
when I was alone
a time when I was vulnerable
and scared
about a time when
all I wanted was to be held
but the shadows gave me
more comfort
than he did
I want to tell you something
I am human
And whatever I tell you
Is me
It will never be anything else.
Interesting story about this song/poem/piece: I wrote this as a "song" for my Intro to Creative Writing class. We had to read Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself" from Leaves of Grass and write our own "song". So, I write this. Exactly how you see it. Only after the word "Sometimes" it went up into the next column on the same page. I made it into two columns instead of two pages. So, I read it in class and my instructor then asks me to pick a good friend in class. I pick someone and he asks me to read the first column and my friend to read the second column and see how it went. So back and forth you see? It was really interesting the way it went. Try reading it the two different ways and let me know what you think. I love feedback on my work so any comment or suggestions or criticism is greatly appreciated. (Ex: "I want to tell you something" goes down to: "But I won't" and so on and so forth)
Monday, January 1, 2007
Manic NYE
New year's Eve.
Unfortunately, I have been sick and in bed/couch for the past 3-4 days. Ever since Austin's funeral and the drunkenness that ensued I got super ill with strep throat or something of the sort and was delirious with a fever. So finally last night I was feeling better after being on penicillin for a day or so. So i decided to shower up, put on my new cute dress, and go over to my best friend's soiree.
My best friend Chelsea was having a "Lil' Baby New Years Party". There were pictures of new born babies everywhere and everyone got a hat that said so. By the time midnight rolled around she was holding the signs and dancing around while I snapped pictures of the everlasting moment she would never have remembered and now will be forced to.
Before the party, I went by the Trident and saw my best friend who was standing outside smoking a cigarette, 6 drinks in, on an empty stomach. Typical. He hugged me over and over and we laughed about old times and he walked me back to my car, hugged me a few more times gave me a big kiss on the lips and danced off down the alley and in the back door of the West End as I laughed and put on 'Minus the Bear' and drove off.
I proceeded to go to this guy's house who I am kind of seeing. I say kind of because he goes back to California tomorrow. So, nothing serious was ever going to come of the two of us. But he was still fun to have around while it lasted. And, hopefully we will see each other again. Anyhoo, unbeknownst to me, this guy already has company. I walk in to see 5 guys staring back at me. Listening to metal, cooking pasta, and watching UFC on TV. Awesome. "Welcome to the sausage fest" was my greeting and I plop down on the couch next to some dude half-ass introduced to me as "the guy in my band". I'm laughing by now because "guy in the band" is telling me how everyone on TV are gorillas and whores and is explaining it to me. Soon enough, I caught on and was yelling out at random intervals "WHORE!". Eventually I got bored of it, as all the boys were getting their pasta and sitting back on the couch I joined my boy at the computer and he burned me about 5 mp3 Cds of amazing music which I am actually listening to right now.
The night ended rather well, at one point I hung out with the three legged cat and whining dog in Chelsea's room, because i wasn't feeling well. But, I eventually got some energy back as Hallie, Chelsea and I decided to all dye our hair pink. Well, chels has done part of hers earlier in the day, so Hallie and I huddled up in front of the mirror with the manic panic and proceeded to put pink hair dye in our hair with a toothbrush. It turned out pretty funny. Hallie's looks really good. Mine, well, mine looks fine, but I'm not too worried about it. I'm getting my hair done soon and dying it all purple, so I can live with pink streaks for a few weeks. I can tell people I'm a freshman in high school again.
I ended up having these really vivid dreams last night, that i can't really relay here at the moment. But they were intense but really good. I woke up to a sweet text message from boy and remembered my hair was pink, so i woke up laughing. Which is always good.
I hope everyone had a good new years. I know mine could have been better, but really, I couldn't have asked for anything better considering the circumstances. Hope 2007 is good for all of you.
Unfortunately, I have been sick and in bed/couch for the past 3-4 days. Ever since Austin's funeral and the drunkenness that ensued I got super ill with strep throat or something of the sort and was delirious with a fever. So finally last night I was feeling better after being on penicillin for a day or so. So i decided to shower up, put on my new cute dress, and go over to my best friend's soiree.
My best friend Chelsea was having a "Lil' Baby New Years Party". There were pictures of new born babies everywhere and everyone got a hat that said so. By the time midnight rolled around she was holding the signs and dancing around while I snapped pictures of the everlasting moment she would never have remembered and now will be forced to.
Before the party, I went by the Trident and saw my best friend who was standing outside smoking a cigarette, 6 drinks in, on an empty stomach. Typical. He hugged me over and over and we laughed about old times and he walked me back to my car, hugged me a few more times gave me a big kiss on the lips and danced off down the alley and in the back door of the West End as I laughed and put on 'Minus the Bear' and drove off.
I proceeded to go to this guy's house who I am kind of seeing. I say kind of because he goes back to California tomorrow. So, nothing serious was ever going to come of the two of us. But he was still fun to have around while it lasted. And, hopefully we will see each other again. Anyhoo, unbeknownst to me, this guy already has company. I walk in to see 5 guys staring back at me. Listening to metal, cooking pasta, and watching UFC on TV. Awesome. "Welcome to the sausage fest" was my greeting and I plop down on the couch next to some dude half-ass introduced to me as "the guy in my band". I'm laughing by now because "guy in the band" is telling me how everyone on TV are gorillas and whores and is explaining it to me. Soon enough, I caught on and was yelling out at random intervals "WHORE!". Eventually I got bored of it, as all the boys were getting their pasta and sitting back on the couch I joined my boy at the computer and he burned me about 5 mp3 Cds of amazing music which I am actually listening to right now.
The night ended rather well, at one point I hung out with the three legged cat and whining dog in Chelsea's room, because i wasn't feeling well. But, I eventually got some energy back as Hallie, Chelsea and I decided to all dye our hair pink. Well, chels has done part of hers earlier in the day, so Hallie and I huddled up in front of the mirror with the manic panic and proceeded to put pink hair dye in our hair with a toothbrush. It turned out pretty funny. Hallie's looks really good. Mine, well, mine looks fine, but I'm not too worried about it. I'm getting my hair done soon and dying it all purple, so I can live with pink streaks for a few weeks. I can tell people I'm a freshman in high school again.
I ended up having these really vivid dreams last night, that i can't really relay here at the moment. But they were intense but really good. I woke up to a sweet text message from boy and remembered my hair was pink, so i woke up laughing. Which is always good.
I hope everyone had a good new years. I know mine could have been better, but really, I couldn't have asked for anything better considering the circumstances. Hope 2007 is good for all of you.
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