Lustrate: interim - i, the breeze

standing, gazing, blinking away the sun and salt. i feel the cool waves rush across my arches dampening the silt between my toes then slide back out into the blue-green expanse. back again it rushes. this time to my ankles. i kneel, but there is no prayer that comes. i wish to sink, but the waves rush out as if they know. flat on my back now i feel whole.waves rush to my shoulders and then to my ears. i listen for their whispers,hopeful... but they won't console me. rush and slide again and again until i must hold my breath against the creeping advance. yet i lay there soaking in the sand; soaking in self awareness and soaking in the truth that neither this break nor the entire great wet that hurls it at this shore will ever be enough to wash away the things that have come to be. lady Macbeth got off easy. i fear i will not.

Lustrate:Chapter 1: Oh, What a Beautiful Day

Inhale, exhale, pain…

I have never been more aware of my body then I am right now.



Inhale, exhale, pain…

I can tell you the exact circumference of my right pinkie toe and the depth of my left ear canal.



Inhale, exhale, pain…

I can feel it all; everything and what I feel is…



Inhale, exhale, pain…



I can hear hushed voices and struggle to open my eyes…or rather use my eyelashes to drag away the bricks someone has left sitting on my pupils.

This was a mistake.



Inhale, exhale, pain…

Now my eyeballs hurt as well.

The pain has erased my ability to focus. So I zoom in, zoom out, zoom in until like grandpa’s hunting binoculars the images get less fuzzy.

I hear the beeps and see the white coats.



Inhale, exhale, pain…

I think ‘hospital’. I must have thought it out loud because a taller white coat moved towards me and confirmed, “Yes Ms. Darwal, you are in a hospital.”

I ask, “Why?”

The coat begins again, “Well, I can tell you why you are here but now ‘why’ you are here.” He said ‘why’ differently each time.

“Any why.” I say.

“Simplest answer;” he states, “allergies.”



Inhale, exhale, pain…

“Hurts more than allergies.” I kinda gurgle out. The white coat chuckles. “funny?” I ask.

“No, not funny.” He apologizes, ”But you are becoming a medical legend Ms. Darwal. You are currently presenting symptoms of every non-lethal allergic reaction ever recorded by medicine. How you are not dead is, in itself, unfathomable. However, we do think that you are improving. You are no longer experiencing the projectile vomiting and diarrhea that you were earlier. The swelling of your eyes have lessened and the blisters on your palm and the bottoms of your feet have all stopped weeping.”

“Everything…all…pain” my voice is not much more than a grunting hiss at this point. I hoped he was able to hear the question through it all.

“yes, well…”he began as he flipped through the charts in his hand, “you do still currently have dry, oozing cracking skin and lesions covering about 97% of your body. So, yeah you might feel a little discomfort. So the less you move the better. Also there has been some hair loss as well I'm afraid.”

“Discomfort?” I ask. He begins to speak again, but all I know is…



Inhale, exhale, pain… …pass out.

from the wake pt3

flitter, twitter, pitter, pat...a slow soft rain begins to fall. at last a break from the bake of the sky and just the ever so slake in his thirst. falling rain and nothing to catch it with besides his trembling fingers. he gets enuff onto his cracking tongue to cease it's burning and seconds after the coolness reaches his throat he passes out again. this is his cycle for days. no shade from heat; only enough rain to keep him alive until the next day. on the dusk of the 4th day of this, he contemplated sliding off his board and letting the sea take him. in his heart, he always thought that it would anyway. 'I am sooo tired" he thought to himself as he curled aboard the makeshift raft. the last rain he'd been so weak that he could only lick water from the board as it pooled near his face. "death, i am yours" he whispered as the sun sank.

from the wake pt2

Usually what woke him from these floating naps was cold spray on his face or sliding back into shore. not this time. it was the bright heat. Lazlu cracked open his right eye and turned his head that way...open water. now to the left...open water. slowly he sat up on his board and looked around him. all he saw was vastness and emptiness. it had been barely sundown when he had done his great paddle out and now the sun was fully up. instead of a 20 minute nap, he'd slept the night away and instead of waves coasting him back towards the shore, the currents had slipped him farther out to sea.
it seems that his innate desire to test limits goes too far even in his dreams.

from the wake pt1

As a young boy Lazlu always had a problem with limits. Pushing them; testing them; crossing them until there were repercussions. He’d tell one too many jokes and get into a fight with the neighbor kids. He’d swipe 2 more cakies than mum had allowed and wind up with a day’s worth of tummy aches. But to him these were just simple fees he’d gladly pay to purchase a life that, in his mind, was a living adventure and far better than the next poor blokes lot. His whole life he pushed things even until it made him face death. Which he did; And continued to push; now even harder.
Lazlu Bonnicup fell stones for apples in love with the ocean. Well the tides anyway and even more specifically the waves the tides brought with them. It’s said that he could swim before walking and learned to run chasing out the breaks. By the time he was 2o he was a master boardsman and could paddle out faster than a team could row as far. As in all other things in his life, Lazlu shoved against the boundaries even in the ocean. He’d paddle out farther and farther each day looking for a beast he could ride miles back into shore. He’d do all of this for himself alone, so sun or moon was fine by him. As long as the waves were willing to show up, so was he. One night after paddling all day he went out until his arms grew sore. So he climbed up onto his board to rest for a bit. It was a large wide board and fit him like a perfect seaborne hammock.

little girl blue v2

little girl blue, fingernails red
lips fake a smile, eyes truely dead
hums a little tune, notes don't sound right
and it thorns all through your mind, like a rusty rail road spike
always on the hunt, always gets her prey
once she has your scent, you'll never get away.
whistle and a blink, finger snap and clap
you stumble and you tumble, perfect into her trap.

little girl blue v1

Little girl blue, all dressed in black.
Smile on her face, blade near her back.
A hop and a skip, all sunny in the rain,
Slickers on her feet all crimson from the maimed.
Siren as she stares, twinkle in her eye
Blows a single kiss as she wishes you goodbye.
You offer her your heart, she takes your soul and skin
And makes the devil shiver ev’ry time she gives a grin.