The Others

Magenta paints every wall
Every cloth
Every face
This is our tribe
They keep us alive
Pledge allegiance
Blind obedience
Loyalty
To anyone who looks like me
The enemy is every other
Disagree and you will see
Magenta teeth
Or just stoned for their beliefs
Shadows aim to steal our fire
Not left in the dark
When it spreads with a spark
But royalty
Says they aren’t like me
Magenta paints every wall
Every cloth
Every face
And crimson will paint every other when we deny the life inside
Special by birth or clean minds?
Scrubbing away all other residue with this cerebral vortex
And sharpened stones become a valuable technology

Cold Water on an Empty Stomach

My love
Come back to bed
The ashes will be there in the morning
In dreams together we are whatever we choose to be
But she cries milk
Eyes sore and red from refusing to blink
“What have we done?”
“What have we done?”
Whispers haunt my lonely dreams
And she cries milk
Sulphur twilight seeps in through the cracked curtain
Grey reflections in her dark pupils
From here, “fortunate” is a relative term
My eyes burn without her
But she cries milk
Acid rain
We sleep all day
Perfect pain
Eye to eye
She cries milk

Lord Cellu

I know this is a touchy issue for some. I mean no offense. But this would seem to hold the potential to work as a great insight as to where I go in my head a lot of the time. It’s a lot of fun in there…

Messenger: Lord Cellu, the humans love the new world you’ve created for them, but are horrified by your appearance.
Lord Cellu: Yes, it is good that they fear me. Better that than they learn the horrible truth of their past with “The Pimp”.
Messenger: Of course, Lord Cellu. The Pimp’s “pimples” were a horrible plague on the human race. And your gift of Noxzema gives them great comfort. Still, the last three humans to witness your true form suffered myocardial infarctions.
Lord Cellu: Perhaps I’ve made my appearance to them too disturbing. They must be desensitized to my appearance.
Messenger: But Lord Cellu, couldn’t you just change your…”
Lord Cellu: Enough! I will desensitize them by imprinting my image on women’s legs and bottoms. Women’s legs and bottoms are some of the most beautiful things on Earth. If they carry my image, then humans will love the way I look to them.
Messenger: But Lord Cellu, wouldn’t the site of you on women’s legs and bottoms kill anyone who looked at it.
Lord Cellu: You are right, Messenger. We will need to lessen the shock by imprinting a similar, less horrifying image, a sort of “Cellu light”.

What Makes Me Happy

Warm coffee on a cold day
Standing in the summer rain
A smile on my nephew’s face
The knowledge that these things are gifts
The memory of my father’s abuse
The exes that reach through time to correct me
The pain that comes from being alive
The knowledge that these things are gifts
Skin and blood and bone and meat
Perfectly flawed
I am perfectly me
And while nothing could ever make me smile
I find inspiration to Be happy in these things

Dream 10.30.18

School setting. Maybe 30 of us in this room. We sit at desks. Our heads protrude from sheet-covered bodies. I reach out my hand and, through her sheet, wrap my finger around her’s. She squeezes tightly. Quickly, excitedly, we both search for the edge of her sheet, aching for skin to touch skin. We find the edge and our fingers interlock. Now we are laying. The bow of her neck rests on my wrist, our fingers still interlocked, now on the other side of her head as she faces me. I awake and feel her jerked away from me. The memory fades. Where ambiguity worked in my dream, I begin trying to fill in the holes. What color was her hair? And that face, where did it go? I suppose I treated myself this morning. I know I want this, although I don’t know where to find it. Then again, had we slept? Were we going to sleep? The thought that I must return to my sleep, to that state that had me angry with everyone and everything, that perspective of division, in order to see eye to eye with someone on this level. Still, I like to envision that our classmates, the world, may sleep as we skip nap-time. How could we be bored or lonely when we have each other?