Untitled #27

You swam through my veins, an intracellular jellyfish searching for the exact spot to nest. You found it in my left ventricle, sending your poison throughout my body with every contraction of my heart. Thump thump, you send a round of kindness. Thump thump, you follow quickly with pervasive apathy. Somewhere in between lies the truth, just a half a beat off.

Your long tentacles reached into the reservoirs of my heart strings, stealing away the pure emotions of love and rage, leaving me an empty ragdoll with a limp smile and button eyes that shine for everyone without a glimmer of my soul beneath. The same hot poker that brought my temper to surface and flushed my face with passion no longer brands forever the souls of my lovers, for I have no love to offer.

The spawn you created when you inhabited my being has found its way to my most precious of assets and taken root in my gray matter, toying with the neurons and stealing my words as they fire between the synapses. Wit appears when matched by peers, but otherwise remains dormant, undecided whether to reemerge a crippled version of its former self or to simply lie in an eternal rest.

Loveless, passionless, uninspired. I am but a gelatinous blob of primordial goo, my essence sucked away by the likes of you.

If It’s in the Cards

What if the world was one big card game

with souls shuffled around as Kings and Queens reign

and one-eyed Jacks wink their wicked game,

It’s a treasury, this box of 52,

especially when the cards are dealt by the likes of me and you.

Sworn lovers and enemies just the same,

we both fight for and against, vowing

never to reveal the other’s name.

Magic

Mom…what if I had magic when I was a baby and I could turn into any age I wanted. So right when I came out of your belly I decided to be 16. Then I’d be like, ‘Get me out of this criiiiiibbb!”

–J, who still might be saying that when she’s 16.

Preschooler Diplomacy

In the War of Words, J’s two year advantage and encyclopedic vocabulary always trump R. Today, however, Rhett won a round in the Battle of Insults based on the best rule for arguments: He who laughs first, wins.
J: Know what? I’m gonna call you a stinker.
R: Well, I gonna call you a butt.
J: Fine. I’m gonna call you a pooper scooper.
R (starting to crack a smile): A pooper scooper???
J (glaring and sounding out the syllables): Yes. A Poo-per. Scoo-per.
R (trying to suppress her giggles): Pooper Scooper. Hahahaha. Fine. I call you a. a. a…. A HOUSE!
J (mouth hung open in bewilderment): A house?
At this point R dissolved into uncontrollable laughter leaving J no choice but to join in.
Absurdity thy name is preschooler. Congressional diplomacy, meet absurdity. Perhaps you two should talk?