For a break in the regular schedule, I shall share something I wrote a little while ago. My works usually end up having reflecting the state of the world today and this particular piece, “You” stands for “youth” so… anyway.
Singular. Pronoun. Wading in the shallows of life. And you
Smile too thin on lips too red in a face as wide as the moon on a witch night. And then you again
with eyes like stars in skies drunk with darkness and the grass green, verdant, very. A syllable on my tongue and a shock
of blue. Stark blue starving blue, blue like the tears in her eyes and you with the toothy grin reminiscent of
wolves and red hoods and cityscapes, city paths and city songs mixed with city loves and you
sixteen, too young, too old, too late, too much, too little. Sixteen with holes in your body where you poisoned yourself so you could fall off that cliff again and again
and then again. You, with the sad sad smile, leaving town on the back of a truck that smells like rotting vegetables and kerosene. You, with the dreams as big as the state of California
and the ice berg for a soul. “Stay,” she said and you pretended not to hear and now you are the medal on some soldier’s uniform, decorated because he killed you,
you monster, you sixteen year old monster, you who broke his mother’s heart to fight in a war he knew nothing about, who was shot dead and now lies in a field buried nameless forgotten.