Characters
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Is there a point
In living in this world?
Or does this world have a
Point, a point
That I must climb
The trecherous mountains
In order to reach?
There is love, and there is hate
My life is a fever dream. Characters fade in and out, most of
whom I'm not sure ever existed in the first place, faint bruises
around my wrists that remind me of all the people who wouldn't
Fresh new book opens wide and swallows me whole!Taking time to acclimate I catch my breath,Focusing as scenes and characters unfoldTo instill memories of their length and breadth.
Two twins named Chantelle
with buckets and bells
took to the road
to scoop from the well
bending right over,
Chantelle, who, quite sober,
slipped off the end
and tumbled and fell
My fingers graze the back of the page on which I spilled my soul. I run them over the indentations where my pen carved my feelings into the pure, white, sheet. How is it that such an act could be considered normal?
I have an innovative mind
One with many characters and personalities
My friends are imaginary, a figment of my dreams
They come alive as I write on the pages inside a blank notebook of my alter worlds.
The chilly voice in your ear.
The sharp smile in the dark.
A cruel and smart predator.
A dark Cheshire cat hiding in the shadows.
When you look in her eyes you are unnerved
But you don't know why.
This is my happy place, where no one else can intrude,
This is my happy place, where characters are all of my own making
Man, woman, child, teen, mermaid, dragon, toaster
It doesn't matter here, because they're all mine
I’m sorry
I apologize for all that I make you go through
The torture
The heartbreak
The madness, the sadness
I did it all for a cause
In hopes that your antics and misadventure would bring
“She’s girly,” say the purple walls in her bedroom
and porcelain dolls in her dollhouse bookshelf.
“Not that girly,” reply the t-shirts and pants in her closet.
The creaky, half-snapped sidewalk chalk
talks out the problems of my lonesome childhood.
My thickly-marked, Fruit-Loop colorings and
blurred characters console me
about my constant house-swapping because
Pen on paper,
Black on white,
Alone and bored on that day
I reached inward
And created a few companions,
They laughed and played
On sun-lit beaches
As I smiled and looked on
I gave my creations
