PART I
I stand tall weightlessness
looking down from the top of a cd rack,
People are standing and staring at something
On the floor of the record store....
While their Parents with their colorless expressions are disturbing
A lack of concern in the children is terrifying,,,
The box with its two pads and the man yelling "stand clear"
Added to the festive events.
Not sure if I should interfere with the fun,
The entertainment of the mass
I jump; almost float down to see,
His shoes are nice; they seem familiar in a strange way,
I remark out loud that I have a pair similar if not exactly like those
but nobody acknowledges me,
my statement made out loud is ignored......

PART II
I wake sitting on a worn wooden school desk bleached white,
Graffiti etched deep in the worn top.
A singular light blinds me in the dark interrogation room.
My nostrils burn from the sicken smell of life and death.
Urine, blood, vomit fill the air;
Not sure how much comes from me.
As my eyes finally focus I see a new black photo album,
With the pages stuck together.
The fist pictures are of my sister and me,
Our small bodies behind faded and
Paint peeling wooden cutouts of Bambam and Pebbles,
Our faces shine with naive smiles.
The birth of my children, on another,
Each with an innocent face.
The sweet image of Shauna,
Her red hair flowing with
Tears of happiness down her cheeks in her white wedding dress.
My guts retch from seeing Karen in her coffin,
Her soft skin and strawberry
Hair hidden because of the accident.
Images of her pushing me away.
Then Nancy in tears on my bed
her white cotton panties down around her ankles
Crying because her step-father raped her,
I didn't care I just wanted to fuck her.
The voice in my head rings,
bangs and grinds me down,
Blood slowly drips from my hands
Splattering the concrete floor.
My urine starts to mix with the
Smell of life and death.
The book goes on and on
Never ending

PART III
I wake again,
this time in total darkness.
I hear crying from what seems a room away
The wailing voices drift long and sorrowful.
I feel closed in,
The smell of bile and body fluids
from earlier has now been replaced
By the clean antiseptic smell of a medical lab.
The wall only inches from my face shakes violently
As if someone is trying to come in.
The pounding fades,
The crying is gone.
My face relaxes,
Only the faint remnants of something
hitting the wall reaches me.
I try moving,
Realizing I am laying down,
I strain to move as I reach out and touch the soft fabric above me.
Not sure if it has been days, months or years,
time is abstract, no concept of it fills my head.
Fear engulfs me,
spreading from the tips of my fingers
,clawing at the cloth,
to my insides.
My taunt skin is rubbery and my soul has turned in to sand.
My soul seeps through the holes caused by stitches,
filling the coffin as I dissipate.
My final thoughts echo in the emptiness of my own coffin

05/28/2003