I am a model, even if I don’t want to model today

August 13, 2024

I am required to smile

I am required to walk

I am required not to talk

I am what the director says I am

I could be breaking within

I would be aching without

I should be taking my time

But the director has final say and it is always, “NO!”

So I wear my mask

Under the layers of applied makeup

Under the constant pressure to conform

Lies a woman with unmet needs

She wants to make her own decisions

She wants to choose what is best for her

But, she wants the pay that comes with the position

So, what you see is not what she gives

I am a model, even if I don’t want to model today

I am a model, even if I don’t want to be what you want me to be

I am a model, a woman of no conviction

Because I am a poor model, and I need the money

[I accidentally deleted this post from last year while trying to publish my latest. Posted for some Prose time-travel challenge. ]

"Don't go too far."

The sun shone still higher over the cobblestones as the ice cubes melted into the lemonade and the paper straw virtuously softened into decomposable uselessness. The weathered metal chair and table were a frame for sun-rays warming a face and a chest that ached and ached and ached.

His hand lay still over the tabletop as he imagined wedging his fingers into the little gaps of the woven metal rods or knocking with his legs and falling backwards to where he could look straight up at the blue, blue sky. Something some better version of him might do.

It was warm.

He got up and dealt with his cup. He set off down the old road to the white plaster building with the black 764 by the door that he knew was two blocks away. The man he had met with two months ago would be waiting in there for sure.

"In theory, you could go back before this country even existed, the strength of our machine is quite vast. Is there someone you'd like to meet? An event you wish you could have seen?"

"Certainly."

That old man had smelled like coffee and onions, and the building was all white walls and plastic, just like a cheap hospital waiting-room. Standing outside the door in the comfortable summer air, the man took in a few last breaths. The wad of money, the crystal-clear marble, and the little slip of notepaper were still in his pockets. He was ready, he was doing this (somehow). He went in.

...

Click clack-- the old onion-man tickled the machinery as he chatted with his waiting test-subject.

"Are you sure that's the place and time for you?" he asked, sorely chagrined.

"Yes, thank you."

"And only 5 minutes?"

"That's right."

"Gah... could I have picked a lamer person?" he complained to the blinking lights and whirring bits. "Ok," he sighed, "you're all set. Maine, South Portland, 10 years ago. Head on in."

The man took in a breath that shocked him as he opened his eyes to a sky whose blue was softer but more beautiful than that from this morning. The air vibrated with nostalgia and a rush of happiness splashed over his brain and danced around his heartache. It's a moment like this that threatens to swell the heart too much, for there is the joy and also the remembrance of how lonely you really have been. Both swirl in the heart with the blood in great volume and you wonder if it's enough to stop a heart for good. But for a man who has spent a decade getting out of bed despite the anchor of his ceaseless pain, not even this is enough to keep him lying on the ground. His limbs moved as though creatures on their own, and he moved and sat on the bench that waited off the sidewalk.

Checking his watch, he saw that two minutes had passed. He sat back and wedged his fingers into each of the little gaps in the woven metal rods, pondering the sky.

"Any minute now..." He looked down and sure enough, an 18 year old with disheveled red hair and a pensive gait was arriving from a distance. The man waited and looked expectantly at the boy.

"You look just like me." said that boy. The man returned the statement by rising from the bench with a knowing smile (and the uncertainty sloshing in his stomach) and hugging the boy as best as he knew how. The young boy, so hungry and ready for anything strange in his life, hugged him just the same. The strange and symmetrical embrace under the pale blue sky continued for quite some time as they both felt a mixture of knowledge and subsiding doubt.

The man remembering the restraint of time, stood back, and frowned at the watch. With a hasty zeal he shoved into his pockets for the money and the things, and brought them out for the bizarrely calm boy standing on the sidewalk with his hands on the straps of his backpack.

"Here, and here and h--" The marble, then the money, went into the boy's hand. The wrinkled bit of note paper came close and fluttered, suddenly freed into the sky by an abrupt disappearance from the anachronistic visitor. A gust of salty wind blew across the green and grey ground and into the boy's nose as he chased the scrip and pinned it against the asphalt with his fingertips.

The boy stood where he was and unfolded the slip and stared at it with a hard-beating heart.

"I've waited and waited, and it wasn't worth it. Love, You"

The boy considered falling to his knees but instead went and sat at the bench waiting by the sidewalk. He stared at the stack of bills he had just been given. As the wind blew again and the sea-smell charged his lungs, he sighed. What he had to do was going to be very hard.

Ice cream pairs well

with self-loathing

Sea salt

like tears

Complements and contrasts

the comfort

of chocolate

In a world where whispers weave the dawn,

And twilight sings of hope not gone,

There lies a path both clear and true,

Where words can paint the world anew.

In this realm, where ghosts might tread,

With careful steps and thoughtful head,

We speak in tones both soft and kind,

In search of peace, in hope to find.

"Real conversations," thus we yearn,

As the stars above us turn,

With words that heal, not those that steal,

In each gentle phrase, a lesson to learn.

For in our speech, a power lies,

Beneath the open, endless skies,

To shape our deeds, our hearts entwine,

With every loving word, a sign.

Here, humanity's dream takes flight,

In dialogues through day and night,

Believing in a shared embrace,

Of every soul, color, face.

So let us talk, with hearts so vast,

Where in our words, the future's cast,

A world where all can coexist,

In the realm of gentle words, persist.

the subconscious mind is aware

of the many worlds

unfolding in each moment

― Kevin Michel

Ray

The morning light filters through a little window, the soft sound of her humming in the shower filling the bright, serene bathroom. She's still exhilarated after what she just did, everything in her buzzing as the images of white and orange lights seem to circulate and bounce off her skin, so incredibly vivid and brilliant in her mind. It's something that plays on repeat under her closed eyelids, making the body sway to an unknown tune, something familiar but unreachable, like the lyrics of an old song, with words that you just can't catch no matter how much you try - a faded out dream filled only with colors, sensations, and warmth that reminds you of sunrays, comfort and heated, lazy summer afternoons. She shakes her head at all the new feelings that wrap around her, causing a million and one sensations to hit her all at once.

A small, rational part of her mind wants to separate itself from the things it cannot explain, looking for a logical answer to everything that happened to her, to a moment so magical that it could never be real. Just a strange figment of her imagination, maybe sudden insanity that she had no idea was brewing inside of her. The reasonable side tells her to forget all about it, to let go, and maybe look for some professional help. And yet, she doesn't. Instead, she smiles, sinking and swimming deeper in the energy that takes over everything else - in the most amazing, delicious, thought-bending ways. If this was a drug that her body somehow was able to create on its own, then she never wanted to come off it. It felt like flying - as if floating on the softest of clouds, swirling between the golden sun and the sky's perfect cerulean blue.

Stepping back from that heaven no longer seemed to be an option.

She inhales deeply as everything around her feels slightly different, sounds different, and even smells in a new way that she couldn't quite describe. It's subtle, and yet it fills her up, a little shift in the atmosphere as if her entire world was a box, and somebody tilted it barely by a few degrees, wedging a microscopic flat pebble under it and changing its angle. Your matrix has changed, while everything else ticks just the same. A thought comes unexpectedly that doesn't seem to be her own, but she brushes it off, too entangled in the endorphins that curse through her system like a swarm of tiny bees buzzing restlessly. It feels like the most natural high in the world that she never wants to stop experiencing. Her fears, doubts, and worries seem to change color and consistency, forming themselves into something too small to matter. The water turns cold, but she doesn't notice, still smiling with her eyes closed, humming and murmuring to something that came to life inside of her - the body still swaying, arms lifting and moving to a soundless rhythm, hands dancing while her fingers play an invisible tune.

She gets lost in it so much that everything around her disappears, delicate signs of something shifting and expanding inside, fading out, replaced by all the new things that hit her with each subtle breath and tiny action. She's so entangled in all the sensations swirling around her that she doesn't notice the moment when an orange light wakes up to life and cascades unhurriedly from her dancing fingers, turning into a smoke-like matter, twirling and then flowing down slowly until it reaches the ground, slithering eagerly between the slightly cracked shower door. Once the smoke touches the floor, it divides itself into several stains made out of light, with irregular, breaking lines, drifting for a while and then stopping without any particular pattern in a few places on the tiles beneath it. She twirls around, almost in slow motions, murmuring soft sounds, her hands never stopping their little dance, each of her movements setting the rich golden and amber hues into motion, slightly more erratic with each passing moment - almost as if interacting with their mistress's influence.

After a moment, the energy-shaped structures coloring the white ceramic floor start to flicker, creating edges above the soft smoke, forming unstable squares that turn around on their own axis. Faster and faster until the edges become more defined, locking inwards into upside-down triangles.

hourglasses constructed from electricity

soft chaos playing on your floor

The amber stains start to sizzle as if burned power lines and lightning in the making, reacting to her every move, getting stronger with each shift of the silhouette, each deeper breath, each exhale - feeling like an invisible orchestra playing faster and louder, every fraction of a second enhancing its melody - what once was only a calm andante, and a full of joy allegro, now has shifted into something darker, less in control - energy in the room that seemed to whisper with bliss with every moment.

faster

faster

faster

It was eager, greedy, overruled with delight from finally being out, its crumpled wings constructed from wires and charged cords in need of spreading. Find a melody that fits this energy; you know it's out there - a voice murmurs and something snaps and cracks, sizzling against the tiles, until the smoke mixing with the amber light becomes ash black, the smell of burned plastic filling the bathroom. She stops in place, frozen, finally breaking out of the invisible rhythm that had her under a spell. She looks confused around the small shower cabin and quickly turns off the water. She stays there for a moment - shivering uncontrollably and jumping in place from the cold that hits her, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Shiiiiit...! What the hell?

She jumps out of the shower cabin and wraps a big purple towel around her, blinking in disbelief, teeth chattering loudly, her frantic stare scanning the bathroom back and forth as if searching for answers. With a heart racing like crazy, she inhales deeper and scrunches her face, the stench of something burnt irritating her nose. She keeps blinking fast with eyes big and round like saucers, her mouth slightly open in a surprised "o" - thinking she must look like a complete idiot, but unable to make her limbs move even by an inch. Eventually, her eyes land on the floor, threatening to fall out of their sockets as the black stains on the tiles come into full view. She stares at it incredulously and looks behind her, almost expecting some invisible intruder to pop up like a character from a lame B-category-level horror movie she always loved to make fun of. But there is no one there. She inhales, trying to calm herself down, and walks over to the dark shapes, crouching next to them, one hand holding the towel around her and the other cautiously touching the tiles as strands of her wet hair fall forward, drops of water creating tiny puddles on the floor. She frowns as the dark matter stains her fingers, leaving a thin film of something that resembles ash, or soot that's left in a fireplace after the last flames die out.

Fucking crazy.

She whispers, slowly getting up, swearing that the stains weren't there before, yet the anxieties and fear scratching at her insides start to make her doubt the whole thing. Was there anyone there? Or was SHE the chaos again? Untamed and dangerous.

No. No. No.

She shakes her head and clenches her jaw - she won't let the thoughts linger this time; they won't turn her into the same scared creature as before. There was something about her that felt stronger, more secure, grounded. It would help her gain control over something dark inside of her that crept under her skin, dormant under the buzzing, beautiful energy - something that matched the ash-black stains on the bathroom floor.

***

She speeds to the guest bedroom where all her stuff is - a small bundle of it, to be honest, just basic necessities. Clothes, a few cosmetics, a book or two, a sketchbook, and a bunch of used graphite and color pencils. She quickly starts to put on some clothes, wanting to disconnect herself and forget about the bathroom scene as soon as possible, denial being her strongest (and maybe the only) armor against the freakish reality that has rapidly taken over her life. And as she jumps into some sporty underwear, a pair of black jeggings, and a white cotton t-shirt, her mind wanders around without her permission to a few days back. Learning that somehow she had kinetic abilities and could lift objects in the air with the power of her mind was surreal enough - to know she could actually free light out of her freaking fingers - well, that blew off all the charts and left only smoke and rubble behind. Sadly, sometimes LITERALLY. She thinks of the dent in Mel's car and the poor fate that her lounge chairs had to suffer, and so many other of the things her friend picked for her house with so much care.

Suddenly, overwhelming guilt rages in her body, seeming to physically scorch her skin and insides. Her whole form sags a bit as she hides her face in her hands, the long dark hair falling slowly forward like soft, sticky seaweed in the depths of an ocean, leaving the face in the shadows. Finally, she shifts and straightens her back, shoulders rolling a few times, arms tightly sticking to her sides, fists clenched with force. This won't break her. Nothing will. She will eventually pay Mel for all the damages she has caused and slowly become stronger. Not as scared, not as weary and small. She will practice whatever is inside of her until the beast is tamed. She shivers slightly, thinking of the invisible claws scraping at her skin and clawing through her insides. She was still terrified of everything that was happening to her, a scared and confused child in a world filled with rules that she didn't know. But she will. She's fucking strong and nothing can stop her when she sets herself a goal. And what a better goal there is than survival itself. She knew how to deal with shit in her life, and this was no different. She's going to beat this. She has to because the alternative was to... She shivers, trembling all over, the fear once again making residence under her muscles, seeming to cast sharp metal needles into her bloodstream.

Eyes shut, she feels something growing in her, something uncontrollable, something so ravenous that it speaks of nothing else but hunger and devastation. Eternal flames. The words pop up in her head, and she shakes her head, swallowing. She wasn't the same girl she was a couple of weeks ago. She saw a subtle yet noticeable difference. Maybe not in the way that she talked to others or how she behaved, but in the way her thoughts flew. Almost endlessly, becoming deeper and more vibrant with each day. Especially after this morning's session with Mel, and before, after passing out in the garden - it shifted something inside of her, and stuff started opening up that she didn't even know existed. It was hard to believe these out-of-this-world, freaky powers that suddenly landed on her like a pile of explosive, flaming bricks. No, it was something that she was still navigating to understand. It was in the way her whole body was reacting when the light escaped her fingertips, almost like on a cellular level. Her thoughts becoming her heartbeats, and her breaths becoming her foundation. It was almost as if an entirely new person was hiding between her muscles, her ribs. This smarter and faster, feeling deeper and reacting to everything in such a new way creature inside of her.

It was her, and at the same time, it wasn't.

At moments, she was just Ray. This crazy girl with wild dreams, a heavy attitude, and scattered thoughts in a constantly too-active body. Just a kid with too much ADHD in her head - as some used to say when she was younger. Maybe they were right. But now... she has become this thing that she did not understand and was scared of - terrified, and yet constantly pulled with powerful force into its direction. She felt both weaker and stronger with the thing that took over her life. Was it always there? Was this always meant to happen? She shivers as the sudden chaos grows in her even more, calling for her attention, ruling her every thought and breath. With a hammering heart, she looks down at the source of what she was feeling, her stare stopping at her clenched fist, faint orange light trapped in her grasp as if a tiny lightbulb hiding in her closed hand.

What the fuck?

She jumps but is too scared to open her hand; instead, she gazes at it mesmerized as if under a spell. She stumbles back slowly and watches the light in her closed fist become more vibrant and darker. A ripe, blood orange dripping under the Tuscan sun. The thought is both so surreal and beautiful that it causes her to regain some control over her body. Slowly, she unclenches her fingers, the orange light with red crimson hues flashing before her, circulating her hand as with an unnamed question and curiosity, eagerly inspecting its surroundings. She watches as it tickles her skin, bringing warmth with it. So alluring, so inviting. She thinks and inhales deeper. The light slowly bends and shifts in a way that makes her realize it is forming a shape. First slowly and then faster and faster, without warming, becoming rounded and fuller, its color even more vibrant until it becomes a little flickering ball, an orb. A miniature sun at your disposal. Another thought pops up, but she's too confused to wonder where it actually came from as if it wasn't entirely hers. She watches the orb lift gently in the air, cautiously in a way, and then something shifts in the air, the edges of her little sun sparking, exploding like the dark holes on its life-size twin. It feels hungry. It feels angry. She starts to hyperventilate, panic setting, both freezing her and surprisingly at the same time letting her move again.

Her eyes close as she tries to breathe more steadily, forcing herself to calm down. Just breathe. Just breathe. That's all you have to do right now. Just breathe. She chants over and over again; not letting herself look at her hand or the moving orb, its crimson threads scaring her even more. Happy thoughts, Ray. Happy, soft thoughts. Come on, you can do it. She knew it sounded stupid, but it was something that Mel had instructed her to do, and funny enough, most of the time, it seemed to help. Or maybe it was just Mel's presence alone?? She starts to panic again but quickly makes herself focus. Good things. Soft, warm, fuzzy. She shifts her head to the sides doing her best to bring some positive images into her mind. Suddenly, she thinks of a particular smile - a seductive smile that is both soft and challenging. She thinks of eyes that are so green that they resemble a luscious emerald meadow on a summer afternoon. Lilly. Her mind whispers, and something in her becomes softer, more steady, and peaceful as if the images were gentle enough to calm her down and at the same time powerful enough to ground her like a heavy, iron anchor. She inhales deeply and feels a strange sensation, like all of a sudden there is more room in her mind, making space for new things, letting her rearrange her unique self into a freshly molded structure. As if someone had built a nest in her mind, one fitted precisely for her redefined wings. She remembers how it felt to let out her energy this morning, how gentle it was, how playful, how it tickled her skin as if with the softest caress.

She focuses on the sensation and that sensation alone.

Slowly, she opens her eyes and looks around the bedroom, and then heads downstairs cautiously, her legs seeming to be made out of cotton, play-doh, and scotch tape. She peeks into the hallway and the living room area, a part of her brain expecting mayhem and devastation, furniture and the house in ruin. But no, everything is perfectly in place, not one thing out of order, sunlight filtering lazily through the white curtains, coloring the floor with warm, honey shades. Then finally, she dares herself to gaze down at her hands and notices a tiny little orb in the center of her hand - a baby in comparison to what it was before. And then it crackles softly and makes a "poof" sound. Her eyebrows lift as she inspects her hand from every angle, bringing it close to her eyes and scanning each line, dent, and crinkle. Nothing. As if it was never there. She shakes her head, her mind blown away completely.

WHOA. Who needs weed when I have this, right??

Once again, she shakes her head and grabs a big, blue leather bag that she swings over her shoulder. She opens the door of her friend's house and quickly locks and closes it behind her, her head shaking slightly as she walks over to an old spare bike parked outside that Mel has lent to her. And then she keeps shaking her head the entire way to the cafe, her brain not being able to process and keep up with all the new data it had to deal with. Life just kept getting weirder these days.

And surprisingly enough, she thought that perhaps she was beginning to like it.

______________________

(music tempo)

* Andante – at a walking pace, moderately slow

* Allegro – quickly, lively, cheerful

___________________

Hey, you guys. Yes, I know it's been a while ;)

Just wanted you to know this book is now also available through Wattpad.

https://www.wattpad.com/1368609447-worlds-colliding

I have a pen that won't be stilled.

It's neither plastic-made,

nor quilled.

Its form and shape are nebulous.

it has no mouth,

but speaketh. Thus:

"Only one word matters,

one alone:

the word that comes next,

that's the bone.

If the meaning is the heart,

the next word, then

is the farthest grasp

of writing's ken."

I have a pen that won't be stilled,

though with no ink

my pen is filled.

My pen's not for paper. My pen's inside.

Inside what? My self? My mind?

Yes and yes. Brainwaves, ride!

Write from all parts of me,

combined.

Cut from the same cloth...

That's what it feels like

When you have a child,

And you love that child with all

Of your beating heart...

When their little hand finds yours in the dark

You feel the doors within swing open,

Like they do when you kiss the lips

Of the one you love,

And they love you back to the moon,

And stars...

Yes there will be pain, and hardships galore;

As you wear your cards on your shirt...

Your Achilles heel in your eyes

For anyone to attempt to savage,

But love makes you ever more the hero

And the fighter for survival and for

Self actualizing; though at times on the surface

It feels as if the self has been snuffed out...

All this becomes most apparent for ME

Through the trembling hearts I choose

To surround myself with,

And have chosen me back...

Bonds bring more depth...

I thought I wanted the mask of a dying world,

But bonds wash my eyes and toss the snakeskin

To the wind...

Bless this boy who now swims

In a half sleep beside me,

And please may he find a

Healing sleep soon

Where his dreams

Reveal even more untapped potential...

Cut from the same cloth...

I feel his flesh and mine combined

As he struggles through dirt

To find himself in an uncertain world...

My boy against the high beams facing

The strain of his fresh petals now in bloom...

11/14/23

Bunny Villaire

Edit #2

You may wonder

And yes, it’s true

I do still

Think of you

But only on the days

When the sky is blue

As it's a reminder

That I’m free of you