all face

it creaked without making a sound, it oozed without producing a liquid.

hushed, i was gasping for air, twirling my fingers around the pondering, pulsating blue vines

consistent as twine

trying to find their way to the finish line, these last few tugs

jolts, almost.

neatly encompassed in something much larger

smooth like stone in my palm, hot as coal

locomotion, twitching took over
the leap

and the landing.

simple to swallow, without so much as a thank-you.

the emotionlessness of my overwhelmingly emotional state

like spilt milk.

watching this empty sack deflate

in utter disgrace,

limp, like the end result, i hated love.

but i loved, the outcome.

Naturals Not It

God. What has he done for me lately.
“Thank God” My Mother says. I’m silent. This is the first time she has ever witnessed me smoking a cigarette.
Inhale deeply. Steady. A pin drops in the distance.
I’m rubbing caked on tar from beneath my Mother’s eyes with my free hand.
Exhale. I cock my head to this side, away from the lines in her face, the rusty teeth and her thinning hair. But beauty, without a doubt.
We stand now, watching an empty playground at dusk, an eerie view for this particular situation.
Ash falls onto the collar of my jacket. Suck and blow. I’ve stopped reaching the filter to my lips.
I ponder this thought of God, his almighty hand reaching down to stroke my Mother’s back as she weeps.
I’m sure she is curious as to why I haven’t joined in on the water works.
She also knows, I rarely show emotion in public.
This thought of God as comfort, solace from the wreckage which is my younger brother.
How stupid.
She turns to drag her feet between the sliding glass doors, staring at me with wet doe eyes. I force out the only words I’ve uttered since we arrived.
“I’ll be a minute”
I think about calling you. In hesitation I get lost in the park, the simplicity of joy from a swing set. The ideas we created as children.
When there was only grass and sky, when neither heaven nor hell existed in our minds.
How stupid.
I leave God outside and ascend back into the depths of this sorrow, this ocean my Mother, my Brother and I are drowning in.
Maybe I’ll play the lottery tomorrow, I think.
Hopefully, God will make an appearance then.

How stupid.