The death of a lover

Psh take that mirror company.

To make sure we're reading something correctly it must be placed directly in front of our eyes.



One cannot completely read what is written from a side angle without it either creating head pain, blurred vision, or in my case temporary insanity. 

We are told we're not objects.....Yet the manufacturing companies who put out car mirrors made sure to label us as so. They must have known we'd have to be standing in front of the mirror in order to read that. 

Cowards.

Call me an object to my face. 

Oh....You kind of just did, didn't you? 

The past in present

PAST

I had my record room

It was a small room in the corner of the house and across from the kitchen

There was a radio, a record player, and an organ.

I was 5, 6, 7, and 8. I went in there often because it was comfort for me.

I loved the feeling that playing the organ gave me. I felt special, almost like I knew something that the rest of the world didn’t.

I felt like I had a talent, but only when I was alone.

I didn’t share my experience with others.

Maybe I was too proud or too selfish.

Maybe I was too nervous of a good thing being taken away.

If I was bad at playing I surely wouldn’t want to hear of it.

PRESENT

 

  I rarely play the piano in front of others

In fact, I rarely play it at all.

My excuse for playing in solitude is that I don’t want others to hear what I feel

I wouldn’t want to put that on anyone

When I play for others it’s fake, it’s nonsense.

It isn’t me and it isn’t real.

I’ve become tempted in the past

But couldn’t muster up the strength

Because rejection is found in many, including myself

And I would never want a good thing taken from me. 

The Past in present

PAST

In light of sleep

My eyes opened briefly to reveal light

An enormous amount of heat had broken me

To the point of an almost drunken haze

I had lacked thought

I was near empty

My shoes had maintained their duty

By carrying me through the crosswalk to the other side of town

My eyes closed

They opened again, briefly, and revealed a world of older men

With mustaches and machines

One shouted “Are you sleeping!?”

I had slept walked through the town

PRESENT

Point A to point B

I can make it

I have to convince myself that I’ll survive

If it weren’t for convincing I’d have nothing to do

There is a long stretch of pavement beneath my feet

And it takes hours to reach the door

I assume that the monsters hide behind the brick surface

to the left of me

I cling to this metal as if I have the ability to overpower

Such a thing

                                                                  Birds fly over me every single morning 

                                                                  and look down on me

                                                                  As if I am some form of entertainment

I resent the fact that my life has dwindled down to being a participant

In a crows idea of a sideshow

The Past in present

PAST

 

My back was pressed against the walls of my youth

Where my brothers sobs had seeped through

I felt helpless

At five and six I didn’t have the ability to turn into a superhero

So I just curled against that wall in silence

I did what I was told and minded my own business

One time my brother had stuck nails up in the doorway 

                                            so when our mother

Came to check up on him, she would step on them

But instead it was my father who entered. My brother said I was to blame.

This grown up man, who knows best, came into my room and moments later it felt

As if my leg was crushed. Through my sobs I admitted that I was not the one to blame. 

My damage had already been done.  

I should have just accepted it.

PRESENT

I always imagine that a world of time travel will someday exist allowing me to escape my present long enough to fix my past

I know the moment I appear in 88’, an invisible wall will be placed between myself and the situations that I wish to change

I can envision myself pounding against the clear walls. I can hear myself screaming so loudly in hopes that my voice will crack the barriers.

All I want to do is save that little boy

I don't need to save myself

I need to save him

Years ago when the boy had grown he had stated that I was “Nothing more than my father’s daughter.”

The thought of that terrified me

Mostly because I  resembled him through my anger

I resembled him through my irrational thoughts

my socially awkward tendencies are an exact replica of his own

And now I have something else my father once had....a little boy.

 

I am my father's daughter

But the weight of the chain has been broken

and will end with him

The past in present

PAST

My name was whispered

It was midnight and one of the first moments I became afraid of sleep

My eyes widened

He had a white mask and a knife ideal for a butcher

He held it an inch above my face

And repeated my name

He thought he was being funny, making me afraid

But I was lifeless

I might as well have been dead

for fear had completely paralyzed me

I had lost again

PRESENT

A steel burden has placed itself upon me

I carry it through all of life

I shield myself at work

I protect myself through sleep

I hold onto safety when I walk, when I drive, and

when I breathe

Perhaps the steel is carrying me

And I have become it’s burden by never letting it go

I shall document the day I feel free of it

I woke up alone and terrified again

It is not as if I go looking for this

It just seems to find me

My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach

Leaving a big gaping hole for death to take its toll

These nerves completely consume me

So I steer myself slowly around corners

And I pace slowly on these floors

expecting the end to jump out at me

It is all so tiresome