Mad Musings

       S ometimes days stretch on endlessly. The kind of endless that sinks into the bones. That rests heavily on the muscle. And pulls at the skin. It's a deep-seated discomfort.     As a child, I wrestled with this heaviness often, as an adult, I wrestle with this feeling often. You would think with such a vast head start on coping  with  heaviness I'd be miles ahead of understanding it. You'd think I'd be at grips with the way my soul droops.     Yet instead, I sit here  with lids peeled back wide-eyed and aghast. How could the weight on my shoulders ever compare  To each atrocity  whizzing across my screen? The world has never felt so connected, yet so damn isolating.     The need for comparison, where does it stem from? I wonder. Maybe when the big feelings were too big I was asked to be small compact not life-sized.      What problems could a child possibly have? When I am confronted, by the ...

This was an entry for a short story competition I submitted to, it was fun to do and though I didn't proceed to the next round the feedback was nice so here's 'Starlight Stranger.'

My mind twists, and with every turn a new frustration. What is it that makes people tick? How do they operate? Where do I begin? Time waits for no one does anyone wait on time? Lost in thoughts of you like you'd ever notice anyhow. I'm in love but frustrated. Missing parts of me like dominoes in a box of forgotten string. I won't know what's out there until I'm lost will I?

He was lying on the couch, propped up on the arm. A sound system was playing an array of songs from his ipod. In his arms was a slightly younger girl, she was beautiful and looked angelic as her chest rose and fell in a peaceful sleep. She looked so innocent, so breakable. Nothing could be hidden or displayed or faked when you were asleep. He was so tempted to kiss her small, full lips but did not want to wake her. She shivered and moved slightly. He pulled her up so that her head rested on his shoulder more and dragged a blanket down from the back of the couch. It was late, he should sleep, but he wanted to watch her peaceful face. It was only for a minute longer. He kissed her cheek and hugged her close. His heart thudding against his chest.

She ran through the rain; feeling the cool drops against her warm skin. It felt amazing, it was dark and there was nothing to shed light except for an old, forgotten street lamp that hummed softly. It was barely audible over the roar of the rain and clap of the clouds. She wore only a mid-thigh length dress that, by now, was soaked to her bones, plastered to her form. Her dress was black as pitch and her skin dark, but paling. Sun was something she didn’t see much of, this one summer night had been just warm enough for a dress. Nothing adorned her long, slender feet for she wanted to feel the Earth with her roots, as if she were a tree. ~~~~ He watched the rain fall from the shelter of a rusted, forgotten shed. Darkness was all around him, and, if he wished, he could simply turn on his flash light to chase away the darkness but he did not. Darkness had always been his friend, always. Even as a child he would sit in the dark, for the dark does not judge. It blindly loves and embraces y...

Noon. Probably not the best wake up time. Forever torn between late nights and early wake up calls I stumble to the kitchen. Groggy and teetering I make my green tea. My mother is here and I need to walk down to the shed she dubs "The She-Shed". I walk outside. She's on the phone with her boyfriend. The small black plastic slipped over her ear as she picks up trash. The dogs got a hold of the large black trash bag we left outside the previous day. I help her, barefoot and hot tea up in hand. She's chatting to her boyfriend as we work. "There was a pair in the trailer but it was too much trouble to go get them." Oh. The little grabby things. What were those called? An arm with a trigger on one end that caused the other end to clasp and close with each squeeze of the handle. It's always interesting the various things we use or come into contact with and never wonder what they are or what they're called. If only I had thought to grab it... but why?...