MJoyO

 “Mommy.” I could hear her voice crawling through the fog of my brain. I wanted to wake up. I wanted to wake up so. badly. Dark things whipped by my body; they scraped my ankles, pulled my hair, and laughed maniacally in my ear. The red face appeared as it always did, its red irises highlighted by the blinding whites of his eyes. His cheekbones stuck out unnaturally and sloped in towards a gaping black mouth. Wrinkles covered his face in the most abnormal places, sagging his nose, sliding laterally across his chin and cheeks. And he spoke. The voice was always the same, deep and gravelly, in some unknown way familiar to me, echoin

The black and white keys smile up at me Now, merciless masters at the whip Hammering their slaves of copper and aluminum Until they cry out boldly, singing in harmony The sound, blasting through their wooden prison Softly at first, their murmurs croon the quiet tales Of romance come and gone, lives lost and won Rivers and brooks, trickling up the keys Now, cobble stones of pearly black and graceful white Suddenly thunderous, the waterfall approaches The slaves sing a new song, strident, and strong Boldly crying out the storms, praises, marches Waltzing up and down, up and down the keys Now, polished black and white floor boards Stomping, jum

Two clouds from chimneys apart Intertwined Two clouds from chimneys apart Mixed in the moonlight Kissing and spreading They rose Overcome by warmth A chemical romance Wafting up, up, up Two clouds from chimneys apart Faded into the night. Two lovers from worlds apart Weaving hands together Two lovers from worlds apart Staring into the moonlight Sitting, cherishing the moment They rise Overcome by cold An approaching passion Closer, closer, closer Then, Two lovers from worlds apart Divided; ardor only a memory.

What inside us first starts to grow? The cells, the skin, the brain? Or is it the soul pushing out from inside That begins the flood of indefatigable development From inaudible giggles and cries we rush To bigger and better words of ‘outrageous fortune’ Does our mind do this alone? I cannot believe Is it our legs that teach us to walk, Our hands that give us knowledge of script? No, it is the soul, Like that of the pollen inside a single bud Urging the delicate bloom to blossom So as to peak out from the center And give its worth to the world.