I am a Freak

 

I am a Freak

Things always seem weird to me maybe it's because I am a freak.

Father was a Carpenter

His father was a carpenter and he is a blacksmith.   My father the king would never allow me to marry a blacksmith.   He wants me to marry Prince Theodore.   I hate Prince Theodore and his sarcastic attitude.   He makes me feel unintelligent.   Johnathan, the blacksmith, is kind and hard working, I value that.   He's the talk of the town.   The townspeople are saying that he slew a dragon not too long ago.   The dragon's necklace hangs on the wall in his shop.

 

His Niagara 

          

My mouth was his Niagara.  Only through my lips did he see the rainbows, feel the mist of my breath.  We rode on ferried tongues through the waves, breaking and floating.  The next morning I'd felt like I wore one of those souvenir t-shirts that read "some creep went to Niagara and all I got was this lousy one-night stand."



 

I am a Freak 

   

I am a freak because I have an intense fear of belly buttons.  I always picture them randomly tearing open and spilling out all the insides.  If anyone tries to touch my belly button I fall to the floor in a fit.  My belly button is never cleaned out so there is a bunch of guck in it now.  It smells.

 

Degree of Irritability

Tom can measure my degree of irritability on any given day by smelling my hair.  If it smells like peppermint, I'm usually pretty easygoing.  If it smells like my dad's dirty knuckles, he knows that just about anything will set me off.  If it just smells like hair, then I'm not worth his time.  Apparently my hair always smells like one of these three choices.



 

Father was a Carpenter

If the heavenly father was a carpenter, how come my life keeps falling apart? Back in college I broke my arm, then my ACL, now I have a broken heart after three years with this guy. He said his father was in construction and so was he. “Great!” I thought.   “That's gotta be a sign!”   He lied . . . he was in demolition.

 

Have a Stroke

I wish he would have a stroke, cut himself, bury his face in a plastic bag or drunk drive himself into a tree.   I saw him hold her hand, flirting with her and grabbing her ass today on campus.   That bastard told me I was the only girl for him.   He's a lying sack of shit, playing with my mind. I'll show him!   I wonder if he really even cares about me?   Would he care if I was one day gone?   Maybe I'll drive my drunkin' self into a tree, maybe.

 

Bones Under the Skin

The metal rings in my notebook feel like delicate bones under my skin.  When I touch them it feels like my finger is being guided by my muscles over the delicate bones in the hand that holds my pen.  And sometimes when my writing is truly alive I can feel a pulse beating through the pages and hear a rush through the looping wires like the blood in my veins.

 

Enlarge My Mind

I always thought the rays from a microwave would enlarge my mind.  Late at night while everyone was asleep I'd stare through the little dots shining through the dark and watch the crusty plate rotate round and round.  In the silence of the night the only sound punctuating the air was the beeps of the buttons I pressed and the drone of the power radiating from the metal box, fertilizing my brain until you could smell the traces of food from my ears.



 

Have a Stroke

“Jesus ma, don't have a stroke.”

 

Degree of Irritability

Some may say my degree of irritability is high today. You give me that seemingly innocent smile, and I puke a green disaster on your new shoes. You slightly begin to bend over to clean it up and I throw you into a somersault down the hall.   Maybe next time you'll think before you smile at a stranger.

His Niagara

"His Niagara" was the message on the bumper sticker on the back of his truck.   I had noticed him for weeks but never worked up the courage to say anything to him.   I'm going to this Halloween party this weekend and I know he'll be there.   It will be hard because I don't know what he's dressing up as.

 

I am a Freak

I can easily rotate my hips 360 degrees, which is why I'm such a good gymnast, I suppose.

 

Enlarge My Mind

“But I don't wanna enlarge my mind,” Kevin said with a sarcastic tone in his voice.   He threw his backpack to the corner of his room.   “Sit down and eat your Wheaties,” Mom yelled back.   I walked over to the table and strapped his legs to the chair, Dad grabbed the cap and said, “Your sister's been doing it her whole life, son, and she's doing just fine in college now.”   I plugged in the Mind Enlarging Machine and zapped away.