Cherry Martini

I don’t want to sip time slowly, I want to drink it down and swallow it with maniac spit and soul. I want to devour kindness and replace it with a turning hold, like carousel seatbelt love. I want to ride my white horse down to the river and drown it sometimes, for the simple act of being inhumane. I want to shock my spirit into raw existence. I want to tenderly meet you in the middle and hold your hand like I hold my breathe when I experience something beautiful.

Laugh or cry, its all the same to me, it’s an explosion created from a feeling that I have no control over.

I can hear my heart beating… everyday it jumps wildly from my chest and spills out my mouth, or through my hands and I heave dry words, that the masses obtain and make their own. My mind gets me in trouble, its writing checks right now that my ass has no interest in cashing.

I place my middle finger over my mouth in an effort to quiet myself but become consumed with the gesture and speak more on it’s crudeness than it’s thought.

Some mornings I break the birdsong out my window with screaming, I interrupt the beauty and I try to bring the day to a hault before it can begin, but it continues anyway. Keep turning great blue ball, keep hurling yourself through the infinite universe… well played my friend, well played.

~Cherry

Why don’t you just…. and you can’t you just… FEEL IT! Deep inside like a pulse driving hammer to your rind, it’s a mad and desperate attack on your beliefs. Do you hear the crackle of your un-ending reasoning coming to rest? Truth cares, truth reacts, truth stifles itself with dark tongues braided in the winding wind. Truth spirals and is lost in it’s own purity on the reprehensibly insane. Someone said “you are too far gone” I am just scratching the surface. Dignified I put on the rescued mask and hide the thoughts I dare not speak. I drink in too much thought, I put down too much passion on paper only for you too ball it up and keep it as a spare for your imagination to snack on when your drunk, or desperate. Are you there yet? ARE YOU THERE YET? where have you gone, a heartless recipe for the scars you’ve burdened on others and the smoke you’ve taken in on your own. Don’t choke, you are not too far gone. Your struggle is extraordinary, your hurt is unique, your pain is as real as your mind can make. Pain is pain, but suffer no more and focus on reality, shift your perception and you can change the world, if you can change your mind, you can start a fire and light the world ablaze. A soft, warm sultry glow that will illuminate till the end of time. It’s in your mind, you are your tyrant, you are your king, you overseer of your psyche, and no one can take away your rule.

Each night I come home, I ring the bell, and I scream out the word “SANCTUARY” I cry and shout and hope to make it true. I yearn for the softness and the silence, I yearn for something to be true about it, I yearn for truth in one word. One sad word that god only provides for safe houses, and mine is not one. The door may be locked but it will open if you forcefully desire it to do so, if your will is so strong and your mind is weak you’ll find yourself bearing false witness here. What you seek you’ll never find behind that door. I am floating, a magnetic charge attracted to the negative force that wills me near with each failing hour. “I am” are far too dangerous of words for me. “I will” are dreams for all who fail in trying, fail in doing, and fail in succeeding. A thought is knocking, waiting patiently for me to answer, but I deny it, it is the truth, and I will let it wait in the cold, it is honest and will not try to force its way through my door, it will not reach beyond my mind and escape my lips, not here, not now… if ever. I am driven to desire by madness. I am driven by pain to forcefully pursue it in the night. I stare blankly at my door, I drag my knuckles across the wood, and whisper hopefully and forever more “Sanctuary…sanctuary” Is there such a thing as peace?

When you boil it all down everyone loves to watch a train wreck, there is some sick part that is intrigued by the madness.

In an emergency there are three types of people:

There are bystanders, those that wish to help but become so overwhelmed by the situation they become frozen, they stare and let their brains try and process what is going on, they feel helpless, but somewhat intrigued, perhaps even intrigued enough to keep watching even though there is nothing they can do.

Then there are Heroes, those that have been trained to handle this type of a situation, they know how to put out fires, they have the drive for excitement, when their adrenaline kicks in they are doers they are thinkers. They put aside their own self in sacrifice for someone else, perhaps even a stranger for reasons they may not even fully understand themselves.

Lastly there are of course, the Injured the person laying on the ground bleeding from the head, crying, the house on fire, the cat in the window as the smoke billows out. The Heroes come in, rescue the cat, puts out the fire, and stops the bleeding. The bystanders applaud and the scene is complete.

All are strangely gratified by the scene, and everyone continues merrily on with their day, the bystanders report the incident, and regale family members and co-workers with their tale of the injured and the hero, and they receive much attention for their retelling. The Heroes receive even more, they come home and tell their friends and wives of the poor soul they so selflessly rescued, or even if they don’t they are gratified with the self satisfaction of knowing they did something right.

But what of the Injured? When the fan fair is gone, they are left, the cat has now run away, the house in shambles, medical bills, stitches, bruises the whole deal. The heroes are gone, the bystanders are home safely in bed. Where does the injured go from there? When the emergency is over how many really consider the aftermath?

There isn’t really a whole lot of aftercare for certain things. We often assume that with all those heroes and bystanders someone must have gone back to check on the injured, or they must have family, or friends, they must have someone to call, someone else is always bringing over soup. But when was the last time you were that person?

In my life I have been fortunate enough to have soup bringers, and cat finders, but what of all those people that don’t have that? Sometimes all the world really needs in an emergency are people that generally give a shit.

If I could resolve to make words into actions and light their way with dull chromed headlights I would. I would paint movements in the night, spasms of the heart, the sharp flailing motions, like those that jolt you from your sleep. My eyes shift and I open my lids, unpealing eyes of gold and green speckled with flecks of sorrow and polished with a sweet glaze. I dare slide the membrane back across them and be surrounded by darkness once again. I am nothing more than an ordinary frame, thats lost its way in mean streets. Bruised and battered with the shaping hammers of time. What form have you made me into? What mishapen face has time given away to. I am a beast, a growling, howling, might, that forces it’s way through brush and thicket finding its pace in the unforgiving air. Sleep, Sleep, sleep, force it upon you, force it to come, like some long widowed rape victim untouched by human hands in years. A confused enjoyment and an unsettled smile as hands creep and crawl beneath the layers or lace, past places long forgotten and last touched by only loving hands. Where is he now? Sleep, Sleep, and release the past, fall into only sweet dreams. Awake refreshed, renewed, awake as someone else and find yourself again, find yourself each morning and let the nightmares of past fall away, let them drape behind you like a long silk train. Give in to temptation, slide your arms around yourself. Become, and don’t stop becoming until you reach your finality and conclude in perfection, embracing imperfection, and letting out a loud and guttural laugh at the madness that brought you full circle and back again to life.

~Cherry