Withdrawal

“Green?! Green!?” We find ourselves again with dear Wicked. Who after several days of normal pleasures consisting of traveling through Liberation Land, enjoying a read in the gardens, and even taking in an afternoon of free theatre finds herself in a fit. “NO! NO NO NO NO!” but even as she wailed she knew, she always knew this would happen. Hot tears run down her grassy cheeks as she stares wide eyed into her broken mirror. She isn’t nearly as green or vivid as before, but as her blood boils she can feel the color grow. She watches in horror as brown eyes turn green and crumbles to the floor sobbing “how… how could I-” stopping herself in that very instant she rises from the floor. It’s been four long years since she made her bed in the sewers and this wicked witch isn’t about to give up. She moves toward the door grabbing her hat as she races for the cure.
Once out she’s taken aback by the sight-just yesterday everything looked bright, but today everything looks like the town of Blight. Tears swell again “what the fuck did he do to me?” Boots crash against the muck as she finds the yellow bricks. Our witch is on fire now running down the road memories of slick yellow men and the tongue not her own all playing in her head. Her skin is glowing greener, as madness builds she runs deeper and deeper-until the pitter-patter of tiny little feet catch her ears. She sees the yellow glow, hears the disturbing giggles and veers clear of the road.
She’s headed now to the Town Below, the seedy side where the drunks and addicts roam. Wicked doesn’t notice she’s after the tiny feet.
As she runs suddenly one appears a little yellow man glowing, giggling, and singing “if you want another taste-another cleanse of skin-follow me to the place where all your dreams begin!” the sound sends shivers down her spine as she can feel the slick flesh on her tongue.
Deep green lips part “get back here! You creepy tiny little MAGGOT!” but he doesn’t look back, just continues to giggle, as he runs up wood steps and disappears through a shop door. The Clinic. Wicked doesn’t know this place, but her instincts tell her to go.
She takes one step up, and then another, her mind is screaming no. Visions of the blindfold darkness, and the physical memory of restraint near choke her, but she moves on. Green hand on the door knob she throws herself inside, pulling down her hat to obscure her eyes she sees them-FREAKS of all kinds. They’re laid out on couches, the floor and each other. They’re smiling-all smiling. The corners of their lips twitch. They don’t even know I’m here she thinks as she notices a curtain taking the place of a door. Again her instincts scream, but she moves towards it. Pulling it open, eyes shocked to what they see, a yellow, slick blob melting into itself, and a circle of FREAKS wrapped in it, sucking on tentacles of it, molested by it.
Wicked wants to run, wants to wash her eyes with acid, but as she turns to leave a gurgling bloop happens and he’s there.
The yellow man stands grinning though almost translucent “welcome wintergreen, time for another round?
“What the fuck did you do to me?” she ask through her teeth. Her legs won’t work and her body won’t scream.
He looks at her sort of bewildered “I gave you what you wanted”
“Well then why am I green!” Stamping a foot-she can move! Now that she isn’t trying to run her body relaxes, she wants the answers she came for-she wants to see if this FREAK has blood.
Shrugging “unfortunately there’s nothing I can do, permanently. You are what you are and I am what I am-”
“Which is?” She’s pulsating and glowing brightly trying not to remember one more thing.
He laughs watching her intensity grow almost salivating “a dream maker” he winks.
“Don’t-” puts a slick almost airy finger to her lips.
“I live off your energy-and you are quite delicious. Some don’t provide for me, but I can take them places I-”
“You drug them yo-” again the finger falls this time she smacks him away her hand going right through his finger, dirtied and wet with his slick.
“I’m the drug-as you can see” he gestures toward the circle, but she doesn’t look “you can think what you want, but you’ll be back again.”
“Fuck you.” She spits moving past him. Our girl has seen enough, but mostly tears have begun to well and she doesn’t cry in public.
“That would make it last longer” he tempted smoothly as she hears the gurgle and bloop right before he appears in front of the entrance stopping her dead in her tracks “or whatever you’d like. I’ve never tasted anything like you-you don’t have to give up cash-just the taste” someone fell out of their seat behind her, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t look. Memories and tears threaten to shatter her as she can hear the land above “you can be a part of that” he says softly as if he knew-did he?
“Get out of my way”
He smirks “you can walk right through” and so she does feeling the slick of his substance cover her.
She doesn’t turn back. She just keeps walking home. Feeling the corners of her lips twitch as the world appears cleaner, and she knows.

Advertisements

After taste

Back in the shack we still find Wicked enamoured with her flesh. She hasn’t moved an inch yet. She’s breathing slow and steady, heart beating loud within her chest-not green. A smile breaks the silence a laugh escapes before she leaps to her feet eyes on the front door. Before she can exit a flash of light catches her attention. She turns to see a mirror and for a moment looks closely at her face. Her hands touch soft skin the rosy cheeks that once always came with exhaustion-they are back! She kicks her heels before exiting.
Boot clad feet hit the familiar yellow bricks which led to this salvation. Cleaner now they seemed. She almost sang. Running down the yellow road to the bright light of day. Through The Town Below blind to all the FREAKS that were stunned by the lack of glow. No one really knew her but you can’t forget that green. Our girl doesn’t notice their stares she just races towards the light to run past it’s beams and up, up a ladder. She’s climbing into an abandoned building up, up, and up she goes, out through the dark sewers, out of a makeshift manhole.
Our girl is tired, but she’s too excited to mind. Huffing and puffing after the climb Wicked’s still smiling as she collects herself “slow down, breathe, and walk out slow” the corners of her lips twitch as she speaks.
Taking one confident step forward and then another. Putting one foot in front of the other while giggling inside. Walking out into the shadowy streets she breathes in deep, moving towards civilized folk, checking her hands periodically. Only half chancing on believing.
Light hits her brown eyes as the sounds of the street hit her ears. There’s still a few shops including the cafe and bookstore she revered. It’s been four long years.
Our girls a worker as even the unwanted need to eat and today she’d feast.
Turning left onto the sidewalk she sees a few children and some young adults presumably meant to watch them. Their collective attention on the shop windows. On candies being made by a craftsman one of few that remains, a showman of course-they are captivated. She passes it all merely smiling at a young girl who held one hand on a lollipop stick the other on an child who pulled constantly away. They didn’t scream she dances inside the corners of her lips twitching.
She enters the glass door of the cafe-she gets it all to go. Several bags worth of treats; baked, pre-made sandwiches, and several bottled drinks. The cashier just smiles commenting on her hat. Our girl actually blushes remaining silent but handing him her cash. He shrugs it off as she dances away. Tucks away her bills flashing one last shy smile before she’s back on the sidewalk. Walking down the streets she’s repressing singing, she’s almost hysterical with all of the joy. She’s didn’t think this was possible, but she made it to the bookstore.
Once inside let’s just say our girl, she spends hours-and hours flipping through pages.
When she finally makes a purchase the day has nearly turned into night. She leaves carrying all the goods the long way-going through Eden to keep out of sight. The last thing she wanted was to deal with someone else’s desperation.
Tonight Wicked has a taste of luxury when she finally gets home she forgets all that came before its almost like she’s a girl again-like before she had to run. She’s happy here, reading and believing it’s done.

Thank you

Thank you for the kind words
thank you for your voice
such a motivator
to move on with my choice
so happy you enjoy my writing
so happy to read your words
thank you from the bottom
of my heart and my verse.

Real Feminist History

Just a taste

Peering out from the gutter eyes glow green, a passing dog begins to growl the owner tugging at its lead, and a child sitting outside the small cafe sees the twinkle under the sidewalk. The child stares deep through the gutter bars catching her subject, eyes wide as her tiny mind makes out the visage-green skin, green eyes, wide brimmed hat? The image is confusing, disturbing to the child’s mind and she begins to blubber.
Our Wicked witch flees back below before anyone else could see her, boot clad feet echoing in the sewer puddles. Reluctantly she’s heading back home.
Wicked sighs as she walks lamenting her life, it’s been too long since this girls sniffed between pages. Nothing in the sewers was worth half a shit. FREAKS didn’t read-they drink, but that’s just not Wicked. Removing the glove from her right hand she grimaces-green. Toxic, unnatural-green. A tear escapes her left eye as she just stares at her flesh, still moving. Our girl walks, and walks. Absently entering The Town Below she hears nothing, but echos from the past. She sees nothing, but that toxic skin. Completely unaware of the yellow bricks her feet decided to follow.
She used to be beautiful. She used to have talent. She would have been on the stage. She would have lived normal-but now? These thoughts are what’s crushing her even though other memories keep surfacing she knows, this is her life now. But is there an answer? Could there be hope?
Suddenly she trips. Face first into slick, grimy brick the sound of tiny footsteps all around. She looks up in a panic, yellow little legs dash past in a whirlwind then the sound of inhuman giggling “welcome! Welcome! Welcome!” tiny voices cheer. To Wicked ears though they are all the same. A dozen little men-all the same circle around her.
“Get away from me!” She wails. This is just too much-tiny, glowing, yellow men, giggling like children “get! Get! Get!” She’s standing now.
While the tiny man directly in front of her frowns “well you don’t have to be rude” little hands at his side he kicks out his leg “just saying hello”
Another chimes in from the crowd “thought you might want a taste”
All together “yeah!” Wicked doesn’t know what to do, or what they’re talking about, but she’s seriously disturbed.
The ‘leader’ speaks again “yeah, a taste of something special-for you today it’d be free!”
Another chimes in “it’ll make you feel incredible!”
And another “it’ll make you a lot less green!” The group snickers in their very disturbing way.
“Less green?” She’s interested now. She’d do anything now-until a tiny little yellow man holds out his hand, she recoils. All the tiny little faces frown as the same tiny little yellow man thrust out his hand again. This time she takes it resulting in cheers, they’re all the same person Wicked thinks as shivers run down her spine.
Still circled around her they lead our girl down the rest of the brick road to a little brown shack resting deep within the sewers. They are surrounded by black the only light coming from the yellow glow emitted by the tiny men and of course the glow of Wicked. The stress of the situation lighting her eyes and skin in a brilliant display that’d give most nightmares.
All at once everything is black Wicked cannot see, there is no yellow glow and certainly no green. Reaching out she feels something slick, not wet, not sticky-just slick like oil. She hears a bubble pop, and the sound of muck gurgling and then a mouth covers her own. Eyes wide to no avail-she cannot see! Reaching for her face her arms get pulled down hard to her sides. She cannot breathe. Cannot move. She panics-mind racing our girl fears for her life. She doesn’t give in though, oh no, Wicked knows pain-our girl knows trauma. Memories explode behind eyes as she begins to thrash her head hits a slick solid substance knocking the blindfold just slightly revealing a yellow glow. It’s too late to think, too late to cool down her flesh is burning now. Screaming into the mouth of her captor it’s probing tongue enters her as she is preparing too explode.
She screams and screams.
And screams.
Basically our girl spends about 45 minutes screaming into the slick captives mouth only to grow extremely tired, and limp. She’s let go, dropping down, down, down onto a what feels like a bed. The blindfold fully falls off and she sees the bare mattress she’s laying on, dirty makeshift walls, and the glow-the yellow glow. She pushes herself up hoping to strangle the closest little man she can grab only to find a man, a yellow average sized man, standing, staring, with a grin. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
She flies at him without thinking hands gripping his neck before recoiling-his flesh is slick! “Ugh! I’m going to kill you!” The rage instantly exhaust her as she calls back onto the bed burying her head in her hands.
“I’ve no idea why you got what you wanted.” She looks down at her hands, eyes wide, not green-not green! Looking up the yellow man is gone.

Paper

Sometimes
I miss my pen and paper
miss the way
it feels to bleed
onto page
through ink and lead
letters reflect
just how one feels
the proof on script
old poets
healed.

Neon Lights

It’s one of those nights. Those lonely nights in splendor a bored blonde stands upon a rooftop terrace. The wind blowing as it does from 15 stories high through those pretty locks the music booming right behind. Our girl dressed to the nines staring down at the Capitol lights the blood splatter in her eyes.
“Memories…” she sighs through red lips parted just so. As he steps out she pulls the end of her cigarette holder to those lips, before he speaks “got a light?” voice that sweet kind of ready.
He makes a noise and begins bumbling through his pockets until he nabs his torch. She smiles the wind tossing her hair every so tenderly as flame meets home. She breathes in.
“So baby what you doing all the way out here?” his breath stinks of schnapps. Wrapping a well toned arm around her satin wrapped waist “you should be where the action is” he hoots pulling her closer their chests colliding. At least he’s built well she smirks taking a long drag those full red lips delighted at the odds.
Some nights a girl just needs some company. He’s smelling her hair as her attention moves toward the glass doors. Neon lights in darkness shadow all the bodies the boom of the music masking the screams in her head, blood splatter still painting her eyes. “Let’s go sweet thing you can finish that inside” he was right she only came out for the view. Now it was time for a little do-si-do.
He leads her through the glass doors the bass almost nauseating “I found the golden ticket!” the stud shouts the crowd responds though nothing’s heard.
She takes a drag watching the slow exhale of the smoke-an excuse to take in the room. She follows the show pony rather guided by his grip, reaching out taking a glass of wine- she sips that red. A drop falling from lip to breast the cool sensation a flash of vindicated regret. Our blondes remembering a face she can never forget. Blood splatter and that bass is sounding thick. He twirls her suddenly out of underneath his weight in her heels she spins the wine spilling over her silver draped body her back hitting the DJ booth. The pain in her spine the trigger.
Thud then swipe the neon colored lights dancing off steel as the beat gets hot.
A flip of our miss and she’s on top the studs shoulders. Face first. He’s enamoured by her intimate wear completely missing the fact this little blonde’s cut clear through the nape of his neck. His blood soaks her thighs as she rides the stiff backwards through the crowd. The  decapitated hottie takes her to the center of the room before the timber begins to fall. To the sound of the bass she goes flying cartwheeling off shoulders before dropping heels into the eyes of another lovely guy. Knife in hand our lonely lady shakes it off the blood splatter illuminated in the dark by neon lights. A girl screams as the blonde reaches number four she sees the rolling head being kicked about the scene. The blondes knife takes another dog while the screaming girl tries to tell someone anyone what’s she seen. Finding the only man whose still breathing, but to her horror takes the words right out of her mouth literally as he shoves his tongue down her throat. She struggles still screaming-as best she can as he paws at her flesh, so after those lips. The music is thumping the tempo a heart attack as he stops her struggle with a hand crack across her face.
Above the quarrelsome pair our blondes legs twirl over the crowd, she watches, the now silent screamers face frozen in fear as the still breathing dog continues to maul. The severed head still being kicked amongst the living.
The beat drops as the observant blonde let’s long legs fall the neon lights flash red, lips sighing “memories…” her heels hit shoulders digging in-delicate fingers release the strap on either side-another pair bites the dust. Nylon covered feet drop to the ground forcing our girl between the passionate duo, her knife comfortable within the dogs chest. She turns it. Red lips next to his breathing in the taste of vodka and soda “you won’t remember me, but I still remember you.” She turns the knife again his hands about her throat weakened by the last of the poison. Oh-how girls do love their poison heels. “All of you.” Pulling her knife out thud another one bites the dust.
The neon lights keep dancing as do the drunk honeys that showed up. The damsel screamer is long gone didn’t even bother informing the gaggle, but luckily left the blonde time to retrieve the heels and saunter out before the red lights interrupt the neon shadows.

Self identified

What is a warrior-
a strong woman
tell me what it means
to be a champion
tell me what you’ve done
to be number one
have you given blood
or just claimed the sum
of all the work that happens
while you live on
pretending that you know
something that we don’t
not the definition though
the word rewrote.

Weakness

Bleed for me
bleed for me
tell me that you’ll lead me
keep me
love me
color me with cotton candy.
Drink me and teach me
that everything is grey.
I’ll sleep on the floor
just to save the day.
All I really want
is someone just to stay
keep your hand upon me
never will I stray.

(25 August 2017)

Declarations

Blessed by spirits
blessed in love
my soul is freedom
my heart becomes
pure as water
driven snow
my blood on fire
divine inferno
God is keeper
I am kept
my faith is trust
in that which is
blessed is all
that love has given
my portion greater
then my eyes
my life I’ve entrusted
to the Divine.