Tag Archives: People

Dreamer’s Struggle—Reality or Fear?

4 Nov

My blood is pumping, my ears cannot distinguish between the sounds of screams, moans and yells, the mob is too much. Clusters of people are gathering around squishing, pushing, no hesitation, only panic.

I wake up. Dead air, silence, nothing.

I can go back in time,

I can rehearse the chaos,

Feel the hands, and fingers of hundreds poking at me,


what is this nightmare?
Is it a reality? A memory from before this life?

How can a dream feel so vivid, so real….so much like the crystallized snapshot,

only memories are capable of producing?

I close my eyes, the bed says sleep child, sleep.

Yet the child shivers,

And though my body is no longer small and weak,

Though my hands have grown,

And my knowledge of this world deepended,

The helplessness is still there,

The unknowing, that fear that is easy to push down,

Comes back up sometimes…

I tell myself it is not real…I am in control.

Sometimes though, when I have fought too much,

When my armor is off,

It is hard, it is a choice.

Let the fear consume me, I could just stay in my shell forever.

Or crush my teeth together, scream at this nameless evil,

And reach a state of happiness,

Hard to grasp,

But once I’m there—

The struggle makes sense,

The worth of happiness is stronger than the price of remaining nothing.


Memory of Living

24 Jul

This is a memory:

The audience was quiet, waiting for me to start. They were a collective group of senior high school students. Some of them my friends, some of them I barely knew. But we had all grown up together, and there’s no changing that. No matter who was weird, cool, or crazy.

The classroom was a small square room on the second level. The desks were pulled into a circular fashion.

I grabbed a chair, placed it in the center of that circle, so I could see every eye, make sure they could all see me.

This was a moment I had been waiting for a moment to show I was good at something.

Our final year, our final class presentation, and I had decided it was fitting, for my persona as so I portrayed, to present a monologue; which for years, had consumed me in its bitter regret, and beautiful words.

I explained the situation : A man in jail, being asked :  have you been rehabilitated? What a question.

I sat down, looked at the audience and began. What I felt was the moment, not only the words I spoke but the deep regret I felt in my own life sure I wasn’t a man in jail, but there were many things I felt at the time needed to be redeemed within me, many things I had done wrong.

When I spoke the words, they came from a place of truth, they came from that place deep inside of me which I cannot say is from the heart or the brain but something else, something utterly human.

Everyone in that room was silent listening, watching, but I didn’t notice them not really, because I was in the moment, in that scene, I was the character and for the first time in my life I didn’t care about what people thought of me if they thought I was hot or ugly, or crazy or fun, dramatic, all the old connotations dropped when I became the character.

The last line,

I look up at every person make sure my eyes reach as many as possible

make sure they see the regret written in every part of my face.

When I  finish there is a silence for a minute,

and then everyone starts to clap.

It’s been many years,

but if I go back into that memory

I can remember what it means to be alive.

State of Play

9 Jul

They were all acting in front of me,

the dumb clowns,

didn’t they know I could tell?

There was a difference between the barbies and myself…

I was ugly inside

and maybe on the outside as well,

for whatever wrinkles and tugs the inside

will come out.

And so they laughed, danced, drank.


There was a need in me to stand up and shout.

To become hysterical,

to break the façade.

I imagined it again and again in my head

a lunatic carousel revolving faster and faster

until someone handed me a smile.

Throwing it back, didn’t mean it was sincere.

But hey you wake up,

you put on your costume,

whatever it may be,

the hair and makeup,

and then your ready to get on stage.


Day after day, revisit the play



8 Jun



Insane Porcupine

Delusional Bastard

Crazy Bitch

Psycho Face

Words can’t hurt me.

Even if they are true,

Even if I say them

Knowing they exsit because I do.

Goose Pimples

25 May

Shiver down my slimy spine,

Pop and tickle,

Whispers of coolness ride on top.

Ah that’s the feeling I like!

Right when the heat touches skin,

And melts away

any sign,

That they ever existed.