The Tin Whistle Menagerie

I remember specifically being ten.

My step cousin Chris had made me cry and I pouted as I spat upon my candles to put them out. All I ever wanted was to impress him and all he ever wanted to do was make fun of me.

“Happy Birthday Dear Pee…”

It didn’t quite strike me as a joke and my eyes welled up with tears. I don’t remember my misery lasting very long, my memory shoots to shoving tokens into arcade games
  driving in a fake car
 in a fake race
  on a fake track
 in a fake place
  all inside my little buzzing box.

There were, of course, ball pits and miles of open space for me to romp around with my 10+ guests (of which I remember very few) and yet I wanted nothing to do with it.
I was fine with my little fantasy life for the moment.

I never much formed cliques, anyways. I never found it very fulfilling to follow around a designated group of people for very long… or even a single person for that matter. I guess with the exception of Caitlin I’ve always been content doing my own thing…which sometimes happened to be the alone thing.

I look at the people that I remember being at my party… Anna, Jackie, Jon and Jose. Jolene had shown up at some point and I never quite knew why. I saw her passing on the other side of the glass room I was in and wondered why her focus wasn’t on me. It was MY birthday. She was beautiful and she once loved me. Now I was 10 and a big girl… ever-closer to her own age. I didn’t want to get older, I wanted Jolene to baby me forever.

What narcissism for a ten-year-old to have.

I want to remember home. Both of them in the same picture. I want to remember the world before the taste of the fountain or the apple. When everything under the sun was still new… the smells, tastes, sights and sounds that precede words. But this time I do not want to take the guest out of that picture. It is she that returned home to its world. She brought the outdoors inside. And when the day grew into adulthood, the night made the whole world new again.
There was hardly love, never the extra dimension, the beyond, a pure faith or emotion extreme enough to break me. All I accomplished will be forgotten and half of it was never even known. All I’ve got to show for six hundred and some odd years is this damned mystery. “Who done it?” will be my legacy. Who opened the gate and ushered me across the water to the other side? Who is the night watchman that found me here and wondered quietly “What is behind the red curtain?”.

Ask me again later, but do not call me. The show is about to begin.

Don’t think too hard, you’ll lose your faith in thought.

an outlet for sincerity

blown out by the electricity of it all

You always see whats on the other side of the window from inside your home, have you ever looked through from the other side?
Is it what you thought it should be? Is it as you want it to be?

There are wider distortions clouding my mind.

Visions of serenity;

Visions of safety;

These distortions are not without their own beauty;

For never in my life have I ever seen anything as ugly as silence.

This is movement

The changes seasons bring

For a moment I saw
What I thought was serene
Only to find
…These artifacts were waiting

Folds in Flesh