Commercial Family

some days when I think to myself looking at the ceiling huddled under my green covers with my fingers rubbing the head of my teddy bear almost as a genie lamp to close my eyes and dream about what it would be like if I had a family one of my own. Some days I dream about what my family is like. i dream about the commercial smiles they would put on for new comers and the arguments so bitter to us yet sweet to know the truth from people who care. I imagine we would all gather around and talks about who looks like who and our imperfections that make us the Klemmons/Jones/Clark/Randolph family. That in our family there would be that one cousin who no one in the family can stand but life isn’t the same without. i imagine their hugs would feel like the spark of a plug inserting itself into a warm socket and their kisses the smooth fabric of those silk red bows slipping between your fingers of a finished present. The exchange of 'i love yous' would be the soothing feel of bread to the homeless a finally resolved craving. But i can only imagine since my family's long gone. All i have left is my mom and my brother, they gave me hugs and kisses at one point in life when those sparks of plugs and sockets and silk red ribbons still existed for us. one night mom and i sat in the car outside of the dollar store talking about siblings in which i stopped and listen to her story of how her big brother, and four other cousins grew up together teasing the youngest. She smiled as she recalled the memory, the laugh lines so wary and worn barely even used anymore. They were the only signs of tears i have ever seen shed from mom but it was okay. i appreciated the painful effort she took to dig up the similarities of growing up to me about the people i had never met. 

Hand outs

“Hand me someone”

I never wanted you to see me as a charity case all I wanted was a hand. Someone who would hold it when it begins to rain on my head in the clouds, and a hand to rub my back saying “baby don’t go cold”.

That same hand that will wrap around my heart when the blanket of hope is gone and the stain of love<3 has been washed away that same old blanket we use to share on those l o n e s o m e nights. I need a hand that says ‘forget?’ while the other says ‘just live’ to press on my chest whenever I’ve passed out from lack of trust and humanityA.

That smell of the sunlight in the sewer will remind me that this hand is the map to where my iome is.

individuality defined in me

As you can see, I’m just being me, resisting the pressure, escaping the labels, running from their stitches I’ve always been able, buying my individuality, paid in a grueling reality, because in order to be noticed I have to be bought, but I manage I guess that’s just a teenage mentality, stapled and stamped stitched and sewn, what if I don’t want to be owned? Only a product like some of you who sit here now. Listen silently and hear those muffled screams hushed by that price tag of Abercrombie. No classification for Mickey, no labels silence me, there’s only me and my originality.

Coming Out Empty Handed

coming out empty handed.

I reach my hand out every day waiting for you to pour out that sweet love and care I remember,

But leaving empty every time, I remember the taste of that love,

so sweet,

  so sour,

 bitter

 on my wet tongue burning so slowly a taste only loves would know,

 Going down my throat its warm filling up what’s missing, Stuff it in the corners of my heart where none have reached before it crowds up all space for anyone else

, choking me too death I might just kill myself wondering why I’m so out of that lovely gasoline was it something that I said

my hidden power...

My Hidden power

I have a super power

It’s nothing you’ve ever seen before

You probably don’t know me

Even if I showed up at your door

Screaming and yelling

It’s never worked for me

Even with my wacky clothing

You never really see me

Missing in action

A loneliness soon fated

Still not knowing who I am

Sadly concealed I waited

Super powers not asked for

Secretly struggling to be seen

No one would ever notice

My power Unwanted invisibility 

By : Mickey Jones 

Dont doubt me and my feelings

^{I hate it when people doubt me and my feelings, just because I’m 14. Yes, my life consists of school, boys, friends, and family but doesn’t mean I haven’t learned anything already. My grandma always says, “girl you think you angry now just wait till you’re older” but grandma I’m angry now because you’ve doubted a girl who’s feelings are her only truth to life. Without feelings every day life would be..nothing.  They always try to say I can’t feel because I’m so young but I can feel. I press on the bruises of the wounded, and the beaten every day, I’ve swallowed their sorrows that get stuck in the drain only to be thrown away while an after taste of loneliness leaves a sweeping wind that only the lonely know. I’ve felt the piercing “L” word so sharply hit their hearts still leaving it bleeding only to realize I’m still just a puppy in your eyes no matter how hard it hurt, and the anger that rises through me like waves crashing down on that poor old sunken boat with that happy sailor who just wanted to some for food for their family for once I feel his cries for help and the waves cries for hope. So don’t doubt that I can feel ive felt it and I wont doubt you when you say I feel it too.}

challenge #279

"Can you taste it?" she whispered in his ear sitting next to him drained of all energy from an early morning start.

“Taste what?” he answered.

“The dew in the air.” She smiled at him even giggling a little.

                The morning mist expelled into the air creating a haziness between them that would not last they knew. Her feet dipped slightly into the coldness that lay under them of the Allegheny River. Their small island being the only barrier between them and the boisterous city. The morning came rising as if it to conquer Pittsburgh with its sun rays once again shedding light upon what is a new day. The warm colors so inviting yet the eeriness in the air so empty of words, or even ideals for words. They continued their conversation side by side under the misty blanket, and bedded peninsula to gaze at the beauty that was the light hitting the water with a mysterious smoke rising from the river into the mango colored sky.

                “Personally I didn’t think dew had a scent.” He assumed looking at her hands bundled in her yellow, thin Hood with the beloved game character from 1980; pacman.

“Then how do know it’s there?” she stared off into the distance asking her question as if the answers were in the wetness of her toes from the frosty river water.

“Because I can see it, I guess.” He shrugged.

“No, but have you ever really stopped to inhale that amazing smell of the morning dew.”

“No, I haven’t actually.” He smiled back at her with a slight raise in his left eyebrow ‘how strange she was’, he thought to himself often however, endearingly.  

Time passed as they sat there staring off into the distance that was the river. The moment instead of being an in depth conversation passed just like the time; strolling endlessly. Unexpectedly with one quick motion he grabbed her by both her shoulders and pulled her close whispered, “you’re so different”, into her ears then pressing his lips to hers, the chilling morning suddenly disappearing from her body. He released his grip only to see her putting her hands over her mouth smiling.  

She sat at a smooth wooden table across from a woman sobbing ceaselessly, still covering her lips from the memory carved into her mind that once was her and him. Looking down at her tears that dripped from her face onto her small, firm hands she could only wish he knew he meant more while peering across the room at his casket.