I found a post-it on the ground that said "I'm sorry" yesterday,
and it made me wonder who would write it
and who threw it away.
You know you want to.
Come closer, see
my translucent tendrils waving
in the current.
I was once living, like you.
I knew fire and pain
as my molecules collided
I once served a purpose.
I held energy in place,
with these tempting jellyfish arms.
Come closer, little one.
Let me wrap your neck in my love,
fill your stomach with my bulk.
I want to feel,
to be alive once more,
to serve my purpose,
before I drift for eons
in hot, dead seas.
I was something before that fated moment.
I was something special in your eyes, you hands and most especially your heart. I think of how it felt seconds before it ended. Where I became the thing that you simply looked at and shrugged and didn't need me anymore.
I remember when we first met. What felt like minutes ago. You waited for me. The line was busy on that particular that day. But you were craving something, and when you saw my name illuminated under cheap lights, you chose me.
That was just minutes before I was ever loved, wanted. Hell, even needed. But I didn't understand the desperation of that type of want until I found myself against this hardness seconds before red turned to green.
Let's back it up quite a bit.
This wasn't the first time I had heard the stories. I've even heard about my friends being returned - untouched - because they weren't "so and so" what they want.
I heard the murmurs, that the customer is always right. I guess we are always going to return to the place we begin.
For the most part of my existence, I did a lot of traveling. I wished for the day I would be warmed up by what they called was care and wanting. They always referred to us to being easy to love because we were fast, ready and good for the at least the most part the soul. So I waited so patiently, knowing one day it would be my chance.
I traveled through a state or so, never really seeing the world, but I always overheard their words. The cravings, the lust, the want, and mostly the desire at the late hours. I didn't care what time it was, to be just be desired was enough.
But regardless, of the infinite amount of never really understanding what they meant of the rumors of being smashed and discarded, I still could care less. That wouldn't be me, I was destined for much more.
I heard about this place through the others. Something that said cuold be considered the most notable place to be in this city. Well, notable or popular or convenient. Not sure, but I was optimistic.
It sounded wonderful. So many others that I had travelled with had told stories about how lucky and appreciated we would be there. That we would be truly loved...to pieces. I always wanted to know how they were doing once I heard them creak away. Silently, wishing them the best of luck, jealousy creeping as burning as a freezer burn.
I was always so patient. I knew my time would come. I heard the creak off the tires as they stopped. But it was the first time, I felt the gentle, but somewhat unsteady hands of what was followed by a gruff breath near me.
I felt as we moved, my entire being swelled. So giddy was this anticipation that I hoped would finally be what I had always wanted.
Instead the unfamiliar conversations followed, indistinct voices and again more creaking. I felt us stop abruptly. I shivered. It was even colder wherever we are at now. I wasn't sure whether there had been a mistake. I thought they spoke of warmth. The ones that ended up being sent back. They said it wasn't because they were wrong, they were just a mistake for that person.
I felt so bad because I could hear them cry silently, and then there were no more cries. Sometimes, I fear that I will be the one that will be on the front lines waiting, thrill running through me....and then the almost immediate disturbance of a final dream taken away so suddenly.
I held myself to the resolve that that would not be the case. Not me, I was destined for the what I have been hoping for since my creation. Warmth.
It felt like much more than an eternity when I heard the crackle. The blue eyes that looked down, I expected something much more, but they barely glanced for a second. The confusion started to set in.
Immediately, before I knew it, I was with next to my friends, who had shared the wonderment and dreams with me since we could remember.
It happened so fast though. I heard my name being called. What? So soon? It felt like seconds before they started to wrap me. Ah, the warmth! I knew they hadn't been lying!
Eventually, I was snugging up next to some good old friends. I could feel their own relief near mine swelled up in anticipation.
The hand off seemed a bit pushy, but I decided it was because they were just as excited about me as I was of them.
But the rough set down did shake my spirit slightly, almost an afterthought. I could feel a slight hope pass. It's much darker than I thought. I always assumed there would be light.
Soon, their hands came though shuffling among my friends and I. Something much smaller than expected wrapping around my being. Unwrapping slowly. I felt a halt, pause two times. I realized I never knew what came to fruition after the beginning.
But suddenly, there was a random jolt, and I felt the wave of warm wind. I heard an exasperated yell during my propelment. "I told you not to keep the window down!"
"Well, you shouldn't have slammed on your breaks!" Another voice.
"Well, grab the other one. We are late."
I heard screeching as I hit very roughly. I laid there, this type of warming was uncomfortable.
I barely heard them saying, "It's ok they are biodegradable." And as the voice faded away, quickly after, "Well, most of it is."
Layer of Cover
I felt like I served the greatest purpose
As a wrapper.
Because I was an outer shell
a layer of cover.
I felt like I was appreciated the least
As a wrapper.
Because the care wasn't
directed towards me
But rather towards
what lay within me.
I felt like a shield.
If I got injured
it would be okay
because it doesn't matter
as long as what's inside
But guess what?
because without me
food could not be distributed.
I don't have to be the focus
to be important.
What am I?
I lay here, discarded paper towels and bits of corrugated cardboard as my bed, my will to slip back into society sapped. With no roof above, my pockmarked skin browns in the sun.
Pulling strips of newspaper around myself, I tried to think back on the times when I had been happier--when I hadn't been so hollow--to see if I could scrounge up something of my former self.
You see, I had had a family. We were an inseparable bunch--sisters constantly bumping into each other and exchanging blows so much you'd think our parents would have sold us off to the farm.
But each scrape and bruise came from a place of love, and I cherished each scar.
A single man changed our entire life in an instant. At first, I thought I had been lucky to be chosen--my sisters, in fact, had been green with envy. But as soon as he ripped me away from my family, he changed. He became ravenous. Unconsolable. A man who lived for his voracious appetite, and not a single thing, including myself, could stop his violent hunger.
He tore through me, peeling away my self-worth bit by bit until I became nothing but skin and air. I had tried to cry out, tried to warn my family, but each cry had met his muffled grunts that demanded obedience.
After he had finished with me, he went for my sisters.
I opened my eyes.
I had survived somehow. He had taken my pride, my fullness of youth, my dignity. But stringy veins held me, and my skin, though withered, had toughed. Though I lie among refuse, I am not discarded.
One day, I will stand again.
What am I? (Answer below)
(answer: I am a banana peel.)
You know, it's getting a little bit crowded in here - we are beginning to overflow from this lovely plastic container that you keep rapidly tossing us in. By the way what is with the sigh each time you fling us through the air? Not like you are being thrown and bounced around before finally landing in or near that container. Bit of an attitude there....and by the way we have been talking and we are starting to get a little bit of complex here. What do you mean we are "not good enough?"
You created us...maybe you should spend a little time developing and growing us...you have no idea what you have actually let slip through your hands. With just a little bit of your faith and a little more effort on your part some of us were not all that bad...maybe we could've been a contender....I'd like to think NYT Best Seller baby, but here we are scattered thoughts.., we will never know as we didn't get that chance....
I sit here and receive all these different things which I like, even if they think that they are trash and disposable. I sit here and observe like a pure mirror, which people cannot be, though they dream of it relentlessly. If they knew what privileged position I am in, they would envy me very much. Luckily for them, I am just a piece of the environment that manages perfectly to blend in the universe, even if I am a limited human creation, not even a product of cutting edge technology.
But that does not really matter because the same vibrations are maintaining my core and are the reason of my existence. So stay tuned and open your heart, and maybe next time a butterfly lands on me I'll be able to use it as a mail delivery service and reach up to you, though you might even not know it when it happens. Maybe I did it already but you are trapped in your prison-like intellect of yours.
A Lonely Apple
A rotting apple lies naked on the concrete.
Its delicious taste has faded
replaced by a brown texture.
Maggots have taken up residents on its raw flesh.
It only has a couple of bite marks.
Left uneaten and exposed to the elements.
Ignored by some, kicked by others.
Once loved even if it was for a fleeting moment.
Alone and Abandoned.
After all, I’m just only plastic to you!
You took me in your one hand
You took a sip and then you left me
You looked at the ocean
So sad, holding your tears
You took me again in your arms
Wondered for how long?
Why you do this to your self?
Crying for him and then go back
Take another sip and leave me down
How could you use me to put in me alcohol?
Have you wondered that you could just recycle me?
Why you always throwing my juice and refill me with that?
You take another shot and another, more and more
Now I am empty and you are drunk
Now you stand up and here he comes
You will go back to him again
How could you?
You threw me in the sand like I meant nothing.
In the morning the sun will burn me
Little by little, I will be no use
How could you?
You were supposed to throw me in the rubbish
Recycle me, so I can be used again
Instead you polluted the ocean
Why humans love to destroy?
They never cared for the trouble they making
Don't they know how we have feelings to?
Why to pollute earth?
In this small world,
Humans destroy their world
Piece by piece
How did they end up here?
In the morning I will be dead!
Buried in the sand,
For another creature to chew me,
And maybe die because of me
I'm only a plastic
People treat me like I'm nothing
They throw me in the ocean, to the woods, streets etc.
No one cares for the damage
I'm only a plastic
I can go to the rubbish
I can be used again if in need
I give you water, juice, drinks.
I'm only a plastic
I give more than a drink
I'm only a plastic
And you treat me like nothing
I'm only a plastic
And you do not respect me
You do me what you want
Your actions may hurt more than you know
You say you do recycle
When you only do the exact opposite
I'm just only a plastic to you!
Why Am I Here?
I'm starting to feel like I'm made for more than this. A lot more. I did my jobs well; holding down two jobs, one after the other was no small feat. I held my owner's water, then I held his fruit smoothies until, one night, I fell off the counter and started leaking everywhere.
Now I'm here, homeless for the first time.
"Ow!" I cry out as I feel a painful depression on my back.
Someone just stepped on me, forcing the air out of me.
Can these drones not NOT see me?
I hear a low screeching sound. The garbage man is here.
Yay! I think, I might get a new job today.
It is then I remember: my previous boss did not put me in recycling.
I'm going to the landfill.