Chris crossing my mind body and soul the scar tissue creeps across my surface, layer upon layer of it build up, only to be forgotten again. Each mark a reminder of a rule broken, a risk taken, a lesson learned. Occassionaly one will pop up in my minds eye, a reminder of things past and all but forgotten.
A bump on the knee, the oh so sharp pain of agitated scar tissue, and all the sudden I'm fourteen again watching a skate video after ripping the skin to the bone.
A smell sends me back to the night I came home after a three day acid and speed binge. If trying to sneek past my parents so I could return to my room to weather the storm of coming down. The sound of my mother's tears traveling up the stairwell, leaving dark cuts across my conscience, and reminding me of "self worth".
Like my own personal coccoon they wrap me in the warmth of hard lessons learned. The left over remains of how I insist that I must define my own way of being, my own set of guidelines.
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The worst part about getting that perscription filled is handing it to the person behind the counter. Slowly, each time, I watch as "she" reads the label, the realization slowly creeping across her face. It starts at the eyes, travels to the forehead, then to the jaw (it's the same with all of them). The strained turn of the kneck towards me, and their attempt to make eye contact without it looking intentional.
"It'll be about twenty minutes..." the words travel like they are drunk, being forced home after a night of drinking.
Nodding I turn back into the flourescent nightmare of modern life, one thought popping into my head: Yep, I really didn't like all "your" fucking rules, you guessed it lady.
With a shrug I wander off to see if the Ninja Turtles are made in China.
A bump on the knee, the oh so sharp pain of agitated scar tissue, and all the sudden I'm fourteen again watching a skate video after ripping the skin to the bone.
A smell sends me back to the night I came home after a three day acid and speed binge. If trying to sneek past my parents so I could return to my room to weather the storm of coming down. The sound of my mother's tears traveling up the stairwell, leaving dark cuts across my conscience, and reminding me of "self worth".
Like my own personal coccoon they wrap me in the warmth of hard lessons learned. The left over remains of how I insist that I must define my own way of being, my own set of guidelines.
************************************************
The worst part about getting that perscription filled is handing it to the person behind the counter. Slowly, each time, I watch as "she" reads the label, the realization slowly creeping across her face. It starts at the eyes, travels to the forehead, then to the jaw (it's the same with all of them). The strained turn of the kneck towards me, and their attempt to make eye contact without it looking intentional.
"It'll be about twenty minutes..." the words travel like they are drunk, being forced home after a night of drinking.
Nodding I turn back into the flourescent nightmare of modern life, one thought popping into my head: Yep, I really didn't like all "your" fucking rules, you guessed it lady.
With a shrug I wander off to see if the Ninja Turtles are made in China.
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
yeah, "he's" a creepy lurker. just start ignoring him. that's what i do.