Mirror
I wake up everyday and he’s there. That stranger in the mirror, he’s following me, he’s after my money, I know he is, thieving bastard.
Dad....thats you, its your reflection, remember? Who else would it be?
He won’t leave me alone, he wants my money, I know he does, i’ve seen him, and them nurses, they’re all after my money I know it
The nurses are looking after you, they don’t want your money dad, they’re here to help you
Thieving little things, they talk about me you know, they say things, they think I can’t hear them but I can. Just because im old doesn’t mean i’m stupid.
....Were going to try that new medicine, see if it helps. They say it works wonders, they’ve been trying it out on Alzheimers patients in America and the results have been really promis..
He wants my money, I know he does, they all do, they don’t want to work for a living, they just want it easy. Taking hard earned money from hard working people like me, thieving bastards. Well they’re not going to pull the wool over my eyes i’ll tell you now, im not stupid you know, im old, but I'm not stupid.
....I’ve got to go now dad, i’ll see you next week okay? Try to get some rest, you work yourself up all the time, its not good for you.
butterfly
pretty it perched on the aromatic vine
a stranger told me the story of a time
too short to be long but as long as the rest
all you can possibly do is your best
tear drops in patterns amongst your wing
I never could be such a beautiful thing
to think of your capacity
for wondering likewise of me
mesmerized by your motion, calm
I wished to hold you in my palm
but before I could, you flew away
I'll meet a new stranger another day
Sliced
I sliced the hair right off my head and let me say,
it was smooth as butter,
every cut.
It dusted the floor like a shaggy, brown snowfall
and I left it all there, hoping maybe
it would melt into the carpet.
With my head ten pounds lighter I floated down the stairs
like a cloud of smoke,
danced around in the yellow evening light.
When he came home,
pushed through the front door with a surge of January air behind him,
he stumbled back at the sight of a stranger in his kitchen.
But he can scream until the sun comes back up,
and new hair begins to sprout.
I don't care.
Yeah I sliced the hair right off my fucking head and let me say,
it was nice to meet her.
Regnarts
I looked at the Stranger, and the stranger back at me.
I asked him many questions, of things I couldn't see.
I asked him of the nature of man, and so I was told
Of Lust beyond flesh, of Greed beyond gold.
He spoke of impossibilities, of stars so far beyond
He ranted improbabilities, of how the Universe was spawned
He answered things which did not matter, for I asked those questions too
He spoke rarely of himself, but spoke oft of those he knew
The man beyond the barrier, his eyes as calm as stone
reached forward to hand me a scepter of gnarled bone
He said this is your legacy, this is what you'll leave behind
I asked what of my progeny? "They don't exist yet" he sighed
What of my destiny?I screamed in rage
We haven't quite yet reached that page
Why must you mock me so?!
Why not? came the chuckle, which was echoed below
I see now the trickster before me, I can see through his lies
Tis not whom i thought it but a demon in disguise
With a violent tremor the barrier breaks, shattered from both sides simultaneously
Shards of glass attack , trying to enter intravenously
I sit sobbing in the bathroom, the mirror shattered all around
7 more years of bad luck is all that could be found
A failed attempt at self actualization
A figment of my psychosis, masquerading as my salvation
An Unconventional Companion
I stared at the dark wooden box in my lap. I’d just taken money from a stranger to carry this box on the plane, and I was at an absolute loss.
“Sir, I have to ask you to place carry-on luggage underneath the seat in front of you,” a bright-eyed flight attendant told me.
I jumped at the voice. Stop acting guilty, I told myself as I slid the box onto the floor. You’ve done nothing wrong.
Unless the box had a bomb.
It’s already been through security, a small voice echoed in my head. And it’s not that heavy.
I nodded. Right, of course it couldn’t be a bomb. I was only getting paid to take a box from Indianapolis to San Francisco. I felt an urge to pick up the box again, and I complied.
Besides, you need the money, murmured the same voice, louder this time.
I really did. A hundred thousand dollars was enough to help me get squared away– to pay off student loans, get a new laptop, maybe a down payment on the apartment I'd been eyeing–
The world is run on money.
It was, wasn’t it?
A few hours in, I drummed my fingers nervously on the box. I’d put it down once more but almost immediately picked it up again. I needed to be holding it. Besides, it smelled good. It smelled… exciting. The scent was driving me crazy now. How had I just noticed it?
Nice, right?
I nodded fervently. It was, it was very nice.
Almost… addictive.
I wasn’t addicted, though.
Then put the box down.
I obeyed, sliding the box onto the floor. A minute later, it was in my hands again. What?
Try opening the box.
I shook my head. It wasn’t mine, it wasn’t my business, I didn’t want to get involved.
The box in my lap trembled a little.
My eyes widened. Was it alive? Had I just taken an animal across national borders? This had to be twelve kinds of illegal.
Not alive, no. The voice told me. At least, not in a conventional sense.
I didn’t know what that meant. I noticed the scent was gone.
If you knew, you’d want to get rid of me, just like the last one.
Rid of… you? I looked carefully at the strange, yet nondescript, box.
“What are you, exactly?” I asked the voice.
I am an unconventional companion, it responded.
“Oh,” I squeaked, bewildered. “I guess that’s fine then.”
The box was talking to me in my head. Okay. I was just going a little insane. Which was fine. I put the box down, resisting the urge to grab it and hold it close. The memory of the enticing smell remained.
You’ll pick it up again, the voice said, quieter. They always do.
Pieces
Strange. They act the same, yet seem completely different.
My mother, father and brother race to welcome me home. Smiling, laughing. The faces, expressions and mannerisms, exactly as I remember.
I find myself smiling along with them, laughing and hugging and putting on an act of my old self. They seem to buy it.
“What was it like?” My dad asks, when we’re all seated in the living room.
“Did you shoot the bad-guys?” Says my little brother.
“Yeah, sure did,” I find myself saying. We do a fist-pump, like always.
My mother seems a bit more concerned. “Were you ever in danger?”
“Nah,” I lie, as an explosion flashes through my mind, partner blown to pieces. “All the major fighting was over when I got there.”
I’ve lost track of how many I’ve killed.
“Good,” she sighs. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Everything back to normal.”
They smile and hug me.
Later, night terrors wake me up at two a.m. in a cold sweat. I bolt up silently in bed, mind screaming.
Don’t make a sound. I don’t want them to know.
Instead, I get up and pad over to my mirror. Look at the person staring back at me.
Same hair. Same face. Same everything.
But that person looks like a stranger to me, now.
How can I feel so different on the inside, but still look the same outside?
Do I even see it in my eyes?
Yes. That is the one place I see it. Cold and dead. The life drained out of them.
I’m the same, but different.
A familiar stranger.
I’ve lost myself, even though he is standing right in front of me.
***
You won!
I remember that day so well.
Free plastic surgery. Transform your body!
Lose the overly large nose? The too wide hips? The flabby arms? Who would say no?
“You look amazing!” my friend said, the first time she saw me. “I can’t believe it. You look like a different person. I didn’t even recognize you!”
“I know, right!” I said, and we high-fived each other just like always.
But now, on our first shopping trip in my new body, something seems different.
“How does it look?” I ask her, spinning around in a perfectly-fitted dress.
“Fine,” she grumbles, and stomps off to look at shoes.
What did I say?
“What’s wrong?” I ask her, as we walk out the shop, me in my new dress.
“Heyyy, can I get your number?” A man calls out to me.
I pause, stunned. No guy has ever done that to me.
“Keep walking,” my friend says, pulling me along. “Guys like that aren’t worth it.”
Still, I couldn’t help but be stupidly flattered.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” my friend says, as we continue walking and I try not to look back. “You just seem…different.”
“But, I’m the same as I always was.” We’d been laughing together, telling the same stupid, tired jokes.
“I know,” she says. “But it still feels like I’m walking with a stranger.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. Was my friend really that…. shallow?
Our epic shopping trip is cut short and I end up going home early.
Alone, I examine myself in my new dress, spinning in front the mirror in my room.
And I notice how generic I look. The textbook definition of beauty; perfect symmetry, smooth, unblemished skin, small, non-descript nose, high cheekbones. Nothing unique or intriguing.
Completely contrary to my personality.
How can I look so different on the outside, but still feel the same inside?
I’m like a life-sized doll.
No wonder my friend was turned off.
I’m the same, but different.
A familiar stranger.
I’ve lost myself, even though she is standing right in front of me.