19 Pound Bunnyzilla!

A single drop

It started with a rain drop. It’s a simple figment of water crashing down from a growing angry sea that would drown out the words, “it’s okay, I forgive you.”  As the words echoed and crashed down with each drop. It looked silver dragging across black velvet leaving nothing behind but a harsh knowledge of what was once there. It was the crumbling city of my soul. The curtain of hope, sense of destiny and a childlike acceptance of my soul became torn away like the last veil from a belly dance. I stared blankly at it because that’s all I could do.

I had been wishing for the rain. I even prayed for it.  A little bit of rain to release the tension in the air. A little bit of water to calm the waters of the soul. There had been so much fire and so much wreckage in my soul that I wounded if the fires would ever stop burning, if the sky would ever be anything more than ash but most importantly would the trees ever grow again? Grisly metal jagged chunks plastered to the edges of the sky line like silicon splatters. I could hear the crushing of ash and sunder of what exactly, I can’t say. I figured if I looked down and saw the suspiciously familiar crunch that lay beneath my Mary Jane’s.  I knew that if I looked down I would be afraid of what I would see.

I wanted to have that undeniable faith that something-anything would grow and nature would take away the devastation. The sky hung low weight that only a cloud can carry. I sat down on something that once looked like the front porch of the many places I had lived. But this had been the longest place I ever lived. The beige paint pealed back leaving crooked smiles gaping at an unknown source. The screen door is crooked and delicately heaving with the gentle breeze made abrasive the smells it carried. “It’s okay, I forgive you.” The wind echoed laboriously.

I wanted to say that everything that had caused the damage. It was like a hail storm. There is nothing you could really do to stop one but to take cover. I laugh to myself that somehow I can fight back, yell or push back at the forces of nature. But let’s face it; some things are completely out of our control.  Mother Nature will move in her mysterious ways and we will all obey accordingly. But this prayer for rain is more than a plea or desire. It’s the need for change. It’s about the need for growth and the hope that the world as a whole can regenerate itself.  That there is something I can regenerate some part of the broken edges of my soul. The past can be as fleeting as the fire that burns before me. It was something I desperately wanted. The rain.

That single drop of hope.

The chance to start over.

The rain.

Random illusion

 I had had this dream last night I thought I would give you readers a chance to weigh in. It was me chained to the computer while writing some of the strangest thing that went through my head. I’d like to present to you…..

Militaristic Cardinal:

          I had this rage sing aside for the parades or persons passing through my life. I felt hung up in a sense of the waking coma. Yet, am still or moving. Is it my body and soul? Do they see the needs in us all? They must for they are living glass balls. They watched as if it is daytime television had it outs.

            The corruption of the walls burning around me my eyes bore into something that I so desperately wanted. The vial that could make me in to a normal person or better yet- the person they felt I needed to be.

I recall my night this week. Bruises all over my body; coloring me into different shades of a coming autumn. I suppose that was my breaking point.  I want my life back but what part of it will I get back? I think as I stare at the vial for  what seems like hours. Tipping point.