Fluorescent Black Lights

[maria colleen]

Remember the feeling of staring into the sun until you were sure you were blind? That rush in your chest that cracked your ribs and splintered your heart. Do you remember when your vision came back, fluorescent black light rainbow, smeared paint clouds, ecstasy ridden darkness?
Did you ever entertain the thought that one more second and you could be engulfed in black?
Ever had those nights, stars dulling from their migraine, moon favoring the other side of the world, where you say, criss crossed like the days you watched the sun
and thought
there would be nothing more beautiful than sleeping fro years and years...
Remember the days you wanted to smother your eyes in black and forget to brush your hair and let every single person know
that you didn't give a damn
Did you ever regret it when you forced yourself into a ripe, pink lip glossed mask?
How many times have you pretended to forget to check for cars before crossing the street?
Have you always been like this?
Always seen things hazy, in sepia toned madness
Forgotten to care, sunk into the depths and fell asleep
Have you always wondered what it would be like to be a blue lipped Sleeping Beauty with no prince?
There's something stunning about that kind of damage, that kind of hurt
Rose fading from sullen lips
Crystal eyes melting to gray
Sun burning too brightly to give any more light
Do you remember all the times you bruised your peach arms, painted your hands in red? They way you couldn't feel a thing, the way sound vanished. The way it all went away so fast and you were left with nothing but a painting
Have you ever watched your reflection scream and cry and break the girl in front of her into a million glittering pieces?
Did it hurt more when you caught glimpse of her face, or when you forced yourself to forget it happened?
Your mother's lavender voice feeds your lungs bubblegum, it is sweet and blushing and tastes like seven years old, but all you feel is the distinct sensation of drowning
Drowning in some thick, muggy place
And there is nothing beautiful about that, but it feels real
Has reality ever matched your idea of reality?
The girl you've dreamt and written and drawn, her thin limbs and bold eyes and curt words
Her literary mind, her freedom, her ability to be dirt poor and kissing whoever she wants and really feeling unpredictability
Has she ever looked like you? Ever sounded like you?
Do you remember how you watched a hairdryer float in a foreign hand above you in the bathtub? The image in your head of a spark of girl bursting away, bright as floodlights
Has reality ever matched your idea of reality?
A blue lipped girl, hair stultified, skin cold, eyes blocking out the sun, never to feel her chest rush at some old nostalgic risk
The sore, dull throb of arms shredded and beaten to bits, the sting of hot water, the itch of a sweater
Realizing the hate one must possess to break the image of themselves in the physical world just so they wont have to see themselves in the mental world
A hurt in the bottom of your stomach that stabbed and squeezed your organs into a pulp
That feeling of poison running through your veins, battery acid tang
You've made yourself believe these things are beautiful
Because it's easier to hope what's hurting you is salvation in an elaborate disguise, than face the fact that you've been wasting a life you forgot to value on something so awful
You've been feeling this since childhood, feeling the bad things creep under your skin even before you knew they were bad things
There's always been something tempting about endings
But do you remember those mornings when you were younger, when the TV sang cartoon smiles, and you watched rainbow cereal swim marathons in pink tinted milk?
Or the days you woke up and felt the morning burrow into your skin?
Maybe the sound of music blasting from headphones?
The way grass smells in the rain?
How you used to look at these things with virgin eyes?
Do you remember the swell inside of you?
The way everything felt alright?
How you didn't even think twice about how alright everything was?
Did you ever stop to think of how real it all was?
And more than that did you ever stop to think of how beautiful it all was?

[Frappuccino]

This poem struck a chord with me and, no, reality has yet to synchronize with my reality; sadly. Though in the closing stanzas you hit my heartstrings well, as I have forgotten to simply enjoy the beauty of the simplest of things for the sake of their mere existence. I may not have had a strange hand holding a blowdryer over a tub of water, but a strange hand holding a gun to the temple is one in the same in that case. All in all it's nice to read that I'm not the only one feeling the fleeting of childhood ignorance beneath the swell of adult jadedness.

[dwells]

Some fine musings Maria Colleen and several that I especially enjoyed for the unique and descriptive artistry that made them stand-outs: "stars dulling from their migraine", "a blue lipped Sleeping Beauty with no prince", and "Realizing the hate one must possess to break the image of themselves in the physical world just so they wont have to see themselves in the mental world". Strikingly said and sadly stated but with a positive reminiscence to infuse a dour existence with a closing ray of hope (another ending). Cheers and this was special, as are you - Dan

[sparky21737]

This poem really hit home for me. I have often wondered when I started to not care, when some of the things you wrote became normal. The last part was also very strong and I often wish I could return to those days. A powerful write with some memorable lines. Thanks for sharing

Sparky

[Josie]

I thought your musings were unique and not necessarily shared. Each one seemed to be pregnant, ready to burst with the need to tell more.
These are my favorite lines that make me want to hear the story behind the words:
'Crystal eyes melting to gray'
"A hurt in the bottom of your stomach that stabbed and squeezed your organs into a pulp"
"You've been feeling this since childhood, feeling the bad things creep under your skin even before you knew
they were bad things'

[rupertpupkin]

Nice train of thought and a most deserving spotlight. Well done with this