Inferring After Thinking to a god…

I pick up the cloth book that came to me, the hue of scarlet, large.

I do not want to open it. I warn myself. The smell of death surrounds me, blood, sickness, rotting. The scent of a thousand corpses.

Why do I have this book? I found it.

Where?

I cannot stop myself because my limbs have no will. I move, my arms stiff. I want to vomit. I am getting sick, a fever begins to rise. The cloth moves to the left.

Not words.

A sacrificial victim enters my vision. She has black hair, her skin painted by some substance. White.

A feeling of strong love.

Her nose is perfect. Her nostrils, holes, are darker than the night sky.

The disease begins to grow in me.

Death is everywhere. One filled with the weakening of the will, all taken but that emotion is not human, suffering with a red sun. It’s so hot.

No one cries. Defeated.

Powerless. Overtaken.

Ancient. Here and there.

My memory knows it is immortal.

The book flies into the sky, departing from me.
It lingers in me. How can such an object be free?

Two priests open a passage without emotion, without life, completely controlled. I see them. Tall.

My vision changes again, and I see thick forests, black on the inside. I say “not evil” but nature. How do I know?

I infer.

I am here.

I do not ask more.

Euphorbia, the Assassin

Out of pain, the ground stirs

Pebble part while ways, waves

Of rigid bones… buried curves

With in sand, insane men turn

Body’s hourglass seconds, Time

Flushes, suckles, and deserves

Straight sticks and cruelty rocks

 Dendritic webs bold, flames burn

Piercing, a crown of thorns, souls’

Take all to the devil’s tales, turn

Gypsum rose, a high mountain

Blossom, crystals bare in urns

Doses sung by bloody hearts

To dust, succulent poison earns

“And to death, we all return.”

Poem: West to East

I once believed…

Then everything fell from me.

A westward wind blew,

And the sun withdrew.

Caves called back, howling

Sketches to scribbles drew.

I once believed…

In rules and truth, too,

Measured meanings turned to stone.

One by one, a rock, I threw.

Caves called back, howling

Knowledge to innocence doomed.

I once believed…

In a future beyond morning.

The horizon rises above me now,

Worthless words I choose.

Caves called back, howling

I’d rather be dead than be with you.

You Can Do It, Too!

I’ve met several potential loves, but I was too distracted to stay.  Like a runaway train, getting away seemed the only option, a self-destructive agreement between me some wise demon who wanted to watch a fool carry on.  The voices of others chanted with him in agreement, not seeing the horns.  He gave me enough fear to prefer the darker aspects of life, the forbidden poison of ignorance that is never innocent of itself.

I saw my parents bow to corrupted dreams, no love, to an existence that never comes yet pumps anti-freeze through the American life.  I blame the upper classes for this myself.  They praise the young for ambition, for seeing the light in golds’ eyes above.  

You can do it, too.

They made messes and the chains of consequence made the bottle appealing to one, while a maddening sense of lust and ambition drove the other into idiotic situations.

You can do it, too.

I’ve lived many lives with them, seeing the horrors of what everyone likes to call “mistakes” and name them to me like I’m a piece of paper to etch lessons on.  Many ruers, a demented old wife.  A chain of crazy girlfriends, bottom of the boat women who are enchanted by the affection of any male.  

They’d call me in the middle of the night. He did this. He did that.  My mother eventually told them to stop calling. They woke her up. They should have been nearer. When you wake mom up, you’re lucky if her diamond ring doesn’t scratch your face.

Why was I the answer anyway?  I have been so most of my life.  Yes, I know what he did to you.  I don’t know what you should do.  Help. That was mutual. 

My mother drank herself away and kept wanting a new house, a better garden, new curtains.  She wanted to endlessly create life through babies and pets, castle rocks, and pots.  

I was determined to not be like them, fear engraved at my life’s funeral.  I’ve had to pass several challenges, each corrupting me further.

You can do it, too.

In Mexico, when I was fourteen, I hang out with this guy who was probably around 20.  My dad and his girlfriend disappeared and left me in the evening street.  There was a sitting place next to his cart filled with small creatures, cleverly crafted.  He asked me if I’d marry him after a few hours of chitchat.  I guess I could have been trafficked, could have lost my organs, died.  I feel a strong regret about not going and leaving my Hell.  He gave me a rose made out of paper, and I left.  I felt strongly attracted to his personality, to him.  Dad and his girlfriend were still arguing when I found them, and they bickered as I fell asleep alone.

You can do it, too.

In HS, I could have pressured a love, as I was close.  He lived near me. We hang out somewhat, liked each other, and he was nice.  He loved another more, and I didn’t compete or chase.  I thought it would have been a better match because he was becoming an engineer and could have helped the girl. Just a 15 year old girl up the street who was pregnant and dropped out of school.  

You can do it, too.

At the community college, I went with a guy called Shelby.  He was insane, so we should have been a good pair. Everyone thought so, as usual, because they put us together.  Shelby gave me a poem about his love for his mother, made me pay for every date, even though he wasn’t my boyfriend, and was too stupid to not ride his bicycle into oncoming traffic. I’ve learned I shouldn’t stop some people from ending themselves.

You can do it, too.

I will say I met a great guy in the army.  He had a car, which was an extreme luxury to me.  I had to use my feet or bicycle to get everywhere in my previous lives.  

I will say that most of our relationship belongs to a comedy movie.  The first physical touch I had was before we were a couple. I was in his barracks room and he grabbed my forearms for some reason.  Electric shocks went through my body, a delighted feeling beyond my tension.  We did that for a while and then I left.  

The first time we kissed, we also made out, and dry humped.  I’m easy except when it comes to having sex.  Sex has been used against me a lot in life.  People at work accused me of liking people, people in my school would yell things about their balls while I was riding my bicycle home at night, everyone accused me of sleeping with my managers.  Some wanted to.

You can do it, too.

I gave him blue balls a lot, and he eventually left.  We didn’t fight during our breakup. He bought me a CD player, and I used it.  He had been dating a girl on the side, and he was getting married.  I went and bought them a marriage gift.  I’ve been a corpse most of my life.

Yes, I’ve fought back against some things, but I never win. As I become older and more haunted, I see how weak I truly am in the world.

I didn’t seek out love as a purpose for being with someone because in the back of my mind I thought I needed to go to school, get a job, and be independent, not be like my parents.  

You can do it, too.  

A Late Lesson

Mark sat down at the bar next to no one, the day overcast.  The wind pushed against the window. The television almost questioned him. Even the lushes waited until five to roll in with their rusty trucks, cut up jeans, and wrinkled skin. Their sympathetic eyes drown into themselves, not caring much about Mark.  They grunted at him and wanted him to pay their bills due to the nice clothes he wore. Unlike them, he kept himself neat and clean, a somebody, maybe?  The bar girl figured he’d soon be a nobody, like the rest who washed up in her mother’s bar.  Toya took the job to pay for school.  She didn’t care much for the place or its company.  She decided she was slowly assassinating them.  They all got what they wanted in the end.

Red wine.  

Turning his attention to Toya, Mark ordered his first beer, the most expensive type they had.  Of course, Mark enjoyed luxury and didn’t want to be trashy, not like his daughter’s mom. He’d never been dirty. His mom used to iron his diapers even, set out his toddler shoes, and he would rest in her arms as she stroked his hair.

“My sweet, little boy. Don’t worry about what they say. You’re special,” she said.  

“Here you go,” Toya said.  

“You know, you remind me of my daughter. She’s a kid, about your age.”  

“Hm,” Toya said back.

“Yeah, she’s in school, too.  She goes to Stanford.  It wasn’t cheap for me, that’s for sure.”  Mark let his finger travel to the bottom of the glass as a thought about Stacy came to mind, but he quickly packed it away.

“I’m paying my own way through school, and I’m not going to Stanford, just going to be a humble accountant,” Toya said as she picked up a glass to clean.  Toya detested pay without work. Her mom taught her this lesson at a young age.  It makes people weak.  If you don’t work out muscles, they become gobs of useless flesh. 

“I wouldn’t have paid if she didn’t get into Stanford. That was my deal, all or nothing,” his voices went higher to convince Toya.  

Some of the old regulars came in with dirt on their hands.  

“You know, when was little, she was into every inch of dirt possible, always had scrapes on her arms from climbing trees. She always trashed our home.  Well, when her mother was around,” a tear rolled down his cheek. “I lost her to another man. I forgive her. My daughter has lived through so much because of that.”

Toya cleaned another glass. 

“That must have been difficult,” she said.  “Would you like another beer?”

“Yes, and thank you. So few in this world care about others,” Mark went on.  “Forgive them father, for they know not what they do.  You just have to turn the other cheek,” Mark went on.  

Toya gave him his beer.  Then another. Then another.

The others in the bar already recognized Mark.

Mark blurred his speech a bit.  He took out his phone to call his daughter, to make sure…

“Hello,” a voice said on the other end.

“Hi, Stacy. It’s dad,” his voice vibrated, “I’m sorry I wasn’t a good father.  I love you more than anything in the world… You’re my favorite kid. I just failed you.”

“Dad are you on a sleeping pill again?”  In Stacy’s mind, that meant sloppy-ass drunk, trashed, and crazier than normal, which was already an achievement. 

“No, I’m at home with Maggie.  I love my family.  I love the lord. You know, it’s the end times.  Are you a Christian?”

“Jesus,” Stacy said back.

“I want to take you up to heaven with me to meet the Lord. It’s the end.”

Stacy woke up a bit to this. 

“Do you know what black people have done this country? We would be better to hire gorillas. They’re peaceful at least. Don’t even get me started on the democrats? The republicans are going to win, you see. This is just like 1960.  I love you.”

“I love you, too, dad,” she couldn’t trust where he was or what he was doing. He might go off of a cliff and upset her grandma, or kill someone else in rage if she applied any pressure.  She had the weight of the world was on her shoulders when it came to him.  He didn’t even comprehend this.  The joke was between her and divinity.  

Toya took the glass away.  

“Hey, Toya, I’ve got 10 million dollars in the bank.  Stacy is lucky to have me as a father.”

“I’m sure.”  She smiled.

“Do you want me to buy you a necklace?”  

“Thanks, but no, I have a boyfriend.”  She looked at his wedding ring.

“My kid doesn’t have a boyfriend.  I spoiled her, you know? I forgive her.”  

“Well, it’s time to close the bar.” His kid was about to experience Paradise Lost.  

“I lost my job a couple of weeks ago, but I always find a new one. They want to hire me.”

Yup, Toya thought. He’s old and soon to be in jeans and a t-shirt with sympathetic eyes drowning into himself like all the others.

A vision of his mother came to mind as he staggered into the parking lot.  

“You’re my special little boy,” she said. “Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

Stacy rolled out of bed and stood up.

“Dammit,” she said.  

Just another night in paradise.

Last Night’s Dream

So, I dreamed about the CIA annoying me. All of the agents there were full of themselves, running around the agency, doing bizarre activities, and wouldn’t talk to me because I wasn’t special like them.

They kept telling everyone about the wonderful opportunities one has when they join.

I asked them to give me school due to the years I lost.

They ignored me, and I left.

I went to an apartment and saw a birdcage. I freaked out because I knew I hadn’t noticed them for a while, and I saw both of them dead. I took their cage off of the shelf and saw Cyanine and Nevill rotting.

Then I saw a small baby bird who was living off of flies.

The little bird got out, and I chased my cats away.

The yellow bird lived, and I woke up.

A Late Lesson

Mark sat down at the bar next to no one, the day overcast.  The wind pushed against the window. The television almost questioned him. Even the lushes waited until five to roll in with their rusty trucks, cut up jeans, and wrinkled skin. Their sympathetic eyes drown into themselves, not caring much about Mark.  They grunted at him and wanted him to pay their bills due to the nice clothes he wore. Unlike them, he kept himself neat and clean, a somebody, maybe?  The bar girl figured he’d soon be a nobody, like the rest who washed up in her mother’s bar.  Toya took the job to pay for school.  She didn’t care much for the place or its company.  She decided she was slowly assassinating them.  They all got what they wanted in the end.

Red wine.  

Turning his attention to Toya, Mark ordered his first beer, the most expensive kind they had.  Of course, Mark enjoyed luxury and didn’t want to be trashy, not like his daughter’s mom. He’d never been dirty. His mom used to iron his diapers even, set out his toddler shoes, and he would rest in her arms as she stroked his hair.  

“My sweet, little boy. Don’t worry about what they say. You’re special,” she said.  

“Here you go,” Toya said.  

“You know, you remind me of my daughter. She’s a kid, about your age.”  

“Hm,” Toya said back.

“Yeah, she’s in school, too.  She goes to Stanford.  It wasn’t cheap for me, that’s for sure.”  Mark let his finger travel to the bottom of the glass as a thought about Stacy came to mind, but he quickly packed it away.

“I’m paying my own way through school, and I’m not going to Stanford, just going to be a humble accountant,” Toya said as she picked up a glass to clean.  Toya detested pay without work. Her mom taught her this lesson at a young age.  It makes people weak.  If you don’t work out muscles, they become gobs of useless flesh. 

“I wouldn’t have paid if she didn’t get into Stanford. That was my deal, all or nothing,” his voice went higher to convince Toya.  

Some of the old regulars came in with dirt on their hands.  

“You know, when was little, she was into every inch of dirt possible, always had scrapes on her arms from climbing trees. She always trashed our home.” Well, when her mother was around,” a tear rolled down his cheek. “I lost her to another man. I forgive her. Some are weak.  I am strong because I’m a survivor.”

Toya cleaned another glass. 

“That must have been difficult,” she said.  “Would you like another beer?”

“Yes, and thank you. So few in this world care about others,” Mark went on.  “Forgive them father, for they know not what they do.  You have to turn the other cheek,” Mark went on.  

Toya gave him his beer.  Then another. Then another.

The others in the bar already recognized Mark.

Mark blurred his speech a bit.  He took out his phone to call his daughter, to make sure…

“Hello,” a voice said on the other end.

“Hi, Stacy. It’s dad,” his voice vibrated, “I’m sorry I wasn’t a good father.  I love you more than anything in the world… I just failed.”

“Dad are you on a sleeping pill again?”  In Stacy’s mind, that meant sloppy-ass drunk, trashed, and crazier than normal, which was already an achievement. 

“No, I’m at home with Roe.  I love my family.  I love the lord. You know, it’s the end times.  Are you a Christian?”

“Jesus,” Stacy said back.

“I want to take you up to heaven with me to meet the Lord. It’s the end.”

Stacy woke up a bit to this. 

“Do you know what black people have done this country. We should hire gorillas. They are smarter and more peaceful. Don’t even get me started on  the democrats. It’s all propaganda. The republicans are going to win, you see. This is just like 1960.  I love you.”

“I love you, too, dad,” she was worried he might go off of a cliff and upset her grandma, or kill someone else in rage if she applied any pressure.  She had the weight of the world was on her shoulders when it came to him.  He didn’t even comprehend this.  The joke was between her and divinity.  

Toya took the glass away.  

“Hey, Toya, I’ve got 10 million dollars in the bank.  Stacy is lucky to have me as a father.”

“I’m sure.”  She smiled.

“Do you want me to buy you a necklace?”  

“Thanks, but no, I have a boyfriend.”  She looked at his wedding ring.

“My kid doesn’t have a boyfriend.  I spoiled her, you know? I forgive her.”

“I lost my job a couple of weeks ago, but I always find a new one. They want to hire me, come crawling to my door.”  

“Well, it’s time to close the bar.” His kid was about to experience Paradise Lost.  

Yup, Toya thought. He’s old and soon to be in jeans and a t-shirt with sympathetic eyes drowning into himself like all the others.

A vision of his mother came to mind as he staggered into the parking lot.  

“You’re my special little boy,” she said. “Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

Stacy rolled out of bed and stood up.

“Dammit,” she said.  

Just another night in paradise.

The Wrong in the Right–Placing Bombs in Families

People are often well-meaning, they are. They want to help others and stand up to wrongs, want to stand up to injustice. Sometimes, however, more harm is done than good.

I come from a large family. From my mom, there are five of us. I have a brother who is 21 years younger than me who I have visited who has a different mother.

We will start with mom.

My mom is a different kind of person. She used to be brilliant before the bottle. She took care of me for years during my childhood. She was protective and loving for a couple of years. She got me back when I was in middle school.

I was malnourished and underweight and psycho from abuse. She had little money but sent me to school with 3 dollars so that I would buy snacks. For a middle school student, I was rolling in the dough. Then the bottle came, and that was all she cared about. People don’t understand what she had to put up with, with me. I’ve had undiagnosed schizophrenia for a long time.

I remember other people would tell her that I was a sweet angel and that she was full of bullshit. This happened partly because I would restrict at school and not talk a lot or cause trouble. I was so cute.

I had been transformed into the BOMB by others, family and friends. These people would pay for things for me, let me sleep over, and they would tell me how horrible my drunk mother was, the epic, “Don’t be like her!” I followed this direction for a while. Relatives did this to me and my other siblings, and it destroyed our family. We didn’t think to help mom, to do chores, to not say bad things to her.Now am an adult and regret a lot of things I’ve done.

I am faced with this struggle with my brother who is 21 years younger than me. He’s being corrupted by my dad’s creed of white supremacy, bizarre political views, superior attitude, and mindless indulgence. Like me, he is slower than normal people but dad won’t get him the help he needs.

Every time I go there, and dad speaks, I want to tell my brother that dad is lying about so many things and to not do or say the things dad says. I can’t protect my brother from the consequences of dad’s words. They could be drastic.

Then I remember what happened in my other family.

So I sit there and take it, not wanting to cause my brother harm or transform him into a bomb that could make my brother suffer more. He’ll have to fight the battle himself, especially when he leaves home.

I Love You, But Not You

I saw as a midday sun threaten an even hotter day. Some people think noon brings the devil’s heat, not the case.  Such people stay inside and drink lemonade, musing on their damnation yet have the sun secured outside.  The weather hisses at them. Terrible, they always say to their friends, just awful.  At the same time, children played in the sprinklers, suburban kinds who could crush the grass and not be yelled at.

I sighed and retreated from the window.  I wondered if I should engage in more class hatred.  Probably not, but I knew I would. Everyone blames everyone else. 

The wicked world spins around the sun each day, bringing light to humanity.  I thought to myself, there are more predators in the daylight.  

We lie lie to ourselves. When we hear the truth, we yell at it.

Medusa jumped onto the counter and knocked my glass of diet pepsi over. 

“MEDUSA!” I yelled at her, but cats don’t understand humans, and we don’t try to understand cats.  She turned around and met my eyes.  I’ll dominate you, bitch.  

“I’d like to see you try,” I said to her, but she looked away.

Keiko stretched on the counter, not paying much attention to the drama.  He purred to himself, catching a ray from the sun. 

Then he looked at me, opening and closing his eyes.

“I love you, but not you,” I said suddenly. 

Medusa paid me no mind.

“You’re charity, you know?  I only keep you around because I paid for your operation. It was one thousand dollars. I don’t even have that now. I don’t want for you to die in the kitty furnace after the effort. I had to take care of you for a month!”

Medusa watched a yellow bird flap outside, bored of all else.

I stroked Keiko gently.  He showed me his stomach.  

“Why do I love you so much, little one?  You are uglier than Medusa, fatter, don’t have tiger stripes like her, you are dumb, you aren’t athletic. You destroy everything that I have.”

He purred louder and wiggled on the counter. The tip of his tongue pricked out.

  Words came out of my mouth.

“I love you, but not you,” I said to them both.

Keiko jumped off the counter and to his water bowl.

Medusa kept staring out of the window.

I watched the children jump in mud.

How does life work? I asked myself.  

Scrambled: Flash Fiction

Scrambled

“We’ve got another one,” Ronald said to Migg.  His eyes traveled to the floor, a grey color where many tears fell, storm after storm.  It never seemed to end with people and this infliction.  Many times, Ronald believed they could be saved, given a new start, but alas, fate doesn’t rhyme with time in a nice song.  

“OMG,” Migg said.  She already knew what had happened, what horrible thing had happened.  While she took the job hoping to help, ignorance held her for only so long.

These people were trapped. 

“Should we put him in with the others in the A or in B section?” Ronald asked.

“I can’t, I can’t, just give me a minute.” She turned her back on the patient, shivering with sympathy, with a will that was worthless. 

“Calm down, Migg,” Ronald said to her and to himself as well.  

A sound came from the man, a medium built person in what looked like his late twenties.  

“Cats and dogs are the yin and yang of the multiverse. Relativity is an attack on our freedoms.”

“Oh no,” Migg uttered. She hated hearing them.

“Did you know that there are people in Africa who are actually brown from dried mud?  Some live with white people in the South but love North Korea’s way of governing, unlike our country.  The fascist democrats are destroying this land.”

“Oh, shit,” Ronald said.

“Blacks and whites are different species but can breed like cats and lions.”

“I don’t know if I can take it. It’s so sad,” Ronald uttered, crying.

“At least he’s not a Scientologist. There might be hope,” Migg said, attempted to comfort Ronald.  

“The Illuminati planned 9/11.  The snow fell that day because the Jews prayed to Satan.”

“We should give him an injection to slow him a bit, to lull him to sleep, maybe. You know some seem worse because they’re stressed about being away from their homes,” said Migg.

“Yeah, maybe that will help. All we can do is pray for him.”  

“The Earth is flat!”  

They quickly injected him. 

“What’s that noise?  It’s another alarm!”  Ronald said in a panic. The hospital’s lights blinked as the siren came on.

“I can’t take this!” Migg reacted.

“I know,” Ronald said, “There’s no way to stop it in the information age. So many are being scrambled.  They’re evolving without logic and critical thinking skills. Damn you, education system!  You cut funding and just built internet cafes. They’re trying to learn on their own.  When they collect in groups, they’re unstoppable! Unstoppable! We’ve tried everything, haven’t we? God, hear us!”

The woman was placed in a bed.  

“Lightyears are really 365 days. That’s a year.  They don’t want you to know that!  The masons are bringing in spirits to deceive those in power to end the world.”

Migg ran for the bathroom wherein she burst into sobs.