My Puzzle

I wonder how my puzzle will be pieced together. Glimpse's of a bigger picture scattered across the floor and when it's time to assemble the art, how many parts will be missing? How many pieces will not fit, how many will be fabricated or jammed in to fit? Will the task be taken slowly and maturely or rushed to blur any flaws?

There are pieces for miles headed West on that black top home. There are pieces down by the creek with the ole' bamboo fishing pole. They're in dorms, bottles, beds, down Lavaca, outside donut shops, behind liquor stores, and beneath the ever present stars. Some friends hold more pieces than they realize, others have thrown out what I've entrusted to them.

Unless all the pieces are found, can you see the picture clearly? Clear enough? Can the puzzle be solved even if pieces are missing? Will you ever fully see or understand? I hope.

To Be Wed In March

March comes loudly like a parade of nostalgia down Memory Lane. Festivity all around mixed in with some floats you enjoy and others you would love to avoid. It's entertaining either way.

A tragedy has its dark humor and inappropriate irony while comedy is all too obvious and predictable yet assuredly to bring a laugh.

Park Bench

Love seems to come and go more frequent and in shorter duration. People on the sidewalk pass by holding hands while I eat my string cheese and apple alone quietly on the park bench. It's a beautiful day but seems to be bogged by sadness.

As I walk to class I catch a glance of a girl walking toward me. Suddenly I feel the need to pull her aside and spill my thoughts. Playing the scene in my head, I imagine she recognizes my thoughts as if they were her own and she is so glad I jumped on the sporadic gumption.

She walks by and I, eyes to the ground, smell her perfume. Inhaling regret, staying quiet but know the pain of speaking up, reaching out, and opening. Some day... someday might never come.

Unclear which inflicts the most change, regret or the pain of loss. Or possibly the loss of pain and regret when life starts to change for the better.

Tea

As I boil water I flash back in time to the most primitive of days when our forefathers did just the same for a soothing drink. They gather the herbs from the earth and put them into the water that whispers with steam.

The herbs bleed. The water steeps into aroma, flavor, and genuine color. Two hands preserving sanctity. I sip slowly as to not provoke the tempered tea and in return it warms my soul.

Cry

My nose starts to tingle. I feel my eyes swelling hot and cheeks warm. My emotions crash onto my heavy face, broken. The water pours from my eyes like a salty faucet and yet my lids are clenched shut, mouth open, teeth exposed. Saliva strings like a web as I pant my gallon drum lungs. My body exhausts itself onto the floor as if I had tripped into a dark hole. My mind is blinded by wet blur. I seem to repeat the same phrases over and over, each time growing more passionately, raspy, and rough.

Time is only understood with a pulsing headache and worn expression. The arms and legs lay limp with short convulsions from gasping air. Yawn.

Anguish freezes involuntarily.

I exhale feeling expended, my will for contentment going out with my breath. My sleeve is lined with dark streaks where I wiped my nose like I did as a child. Skin shades of flesh and red pattern the outside of my eyes from tightly held mien. 

Once ashamed, now exposed to all the pain that was enclosed.

Neutral Becomes Noisy

For the longest time I thought I was doing myself a favor by laying low with opinions of politics, ethics, and other difficult subjects. And for the longest time I have stayed clear of most conflict, until now.

Oddly enough, the conflict doesn't come from anyone but myself. I argue with myself on almost every subject, never coming to a final conclusion. I just end up pissed off and no one to blame it on. I seem to be asking myself more questions and finding less answers. It's like a game of ping-pong that got way out of hand, I've been going back and forth for years.

I was never really asked for MY opinion, most of the time people would just say theirs and look to me, "wouldn't you agree." I'd naively nod my head and shrug my shoulders.

For some reason I don't care or have no reason enough to argue over most subjects. I never saw anything wrong with that about me, now I'm starting to wonder.

Make Believe

I make believe sometimes. I used to make believe  a lot, but not so much anymore. People look at me strange when I'm shopping in the grocery story talking to myself, 

"Affirmative, we have a bogie on aisle 10, requesting backup to take down the salsa."

More recently I try to make believe when no one is around, or even awake for that matter. I'll take late night showers with all the lights off. I pretend I am in some alley, blind and must find my way around in the darkness. I am poor and have no clothes. It begins to rain. Acid rain, it feels hot. I have nothing. I lay there for an hour waiting, waiting for the rain to flood and wash away the street dirt. I have nothing and feel content. The world is falling apart and I feel safe.

I feel safe in my imaginary place.