Post by michael trace alexandria on Nov 10, 2012 16:55:58 GMT -5
The weather was starting to get cold and frosty. The chill of the air sent shivers through Michael’s body. He stood up, the newspapers he used for blankets fell off him, and he brushed his longish hair from his face. He crossed his arms, trying to protect himself from the cold. He walked the barren streets and the setting sun on the horizon painted him orange. He welcomed the light, letting it warm him up. He walked until the sun set completely, leaving him shivering again. How he wished things were different. He used to have a home. He would have been cuddled up with the one he had cared so much about, holding her in his arms. He used to have a job, and an infinite amount of money. He had everything, but lost it all because of the crosses he bears. Michael took notice of his surroundings. He was at a large park, a lamp post stood just ahead of where he stood himself. He walked over and sat against the lamp post, pretending that the light was warming him. He tilted his weary head back, and let the light soak into his skin, pretending the light was from the sun’s rays. Momentarily, he believed himself. He felt good. But then the light flickered and burn out.
The young homeless man pulled himself up, brushing off the dirt and debris from his pants and shirt. He rubbed his hands together, and breathed on them, trying to regain feeling in them. The man was only 19 and already lived without a home of his own. He peered into a restaurant’s window and watched them cleaning up. He wondered if someone would take pity on him and give him some of the left overs. He was never that lucky, he would never find any sort of solace in his life. The only things that had given him any hope into his life was when he met Jasey, but he had gone and ruined that with his temper. She was pregnant, but he was certain that she was better off without him.
The few people on the street avoided him like he was the black plague. He put his hands in his worn jacket’s pocket and started walking. He cast his eyes to the ground and kept walking, avoiding eye contact with anyone. In most people’s eyes, he was just a vagrant homeless man. He had grown a full beard and had not showered in days. He was going on day 28 of being homeless. He found an old piece of cardboard and a magic mark and wrote ‘Will work for food’ in big letters, and stood on an intersection, holding it up. In his reflection, he didn’t look like himself at all. He was threadbare. He had on an old worn red flannel jacket and faded black skinny jeans and old ratty Toms. He stood out there for an hour or so before someone stopped and rolled down their window.
Michael walked over, and the person, without a word, rolled down his window, handed him a one hundred dollar bill, rolled it up, and drove away. Micah dropped his sign and took off running to the nearest HEB, buying himself a microwavable meal and a razor and soap and hair products. He walked to a shitty roach motel and bought a room with the rest of his money, and took a shower. He washed all the dirt and grime off, and only put his boxers back on. He shaved his beard, and used the razor to cut his hair short how it used to be. He almost looked like Micah again. He heated up his food and ate, gobbling it up quickly. Then he sat there. Times like these were the only moments he would ever have to look forward to. With that thought, his stomach churned and he ran to the bathroom, and threw up his food violently, then sank to the floor crying.
He couldn’t do it any longer. He flushed the toilet and looked up, his razor setting there, looking oh so tempting.
Once on a yellow peice of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
and he called it "chops"
because that was the name of his dog
and thats what it was all about
his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
and his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts.
that was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
and he let them sing on the bus
and his little sister was born
with tiny nails and no hair
and his mother and father kissed alot
and the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
and his father always tucked him in bed at night
and was always there to do it
once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
and that's what it was all about
and his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
and his mother never hung it on the kithcen door
beause of the new paint
and the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
and left butts on the pews
and sometime they would burn holes
that was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
and the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see santa claus
and the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed alot
and his father never tucked him in bed at night
and his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it
once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
and he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
and thats what it was all about
and his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
that was the year Father Tracy died
and he forgot how the end
of the Apostles's Creed went
and he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
and his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
and the girl around the corner
wore too much make up
that made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
becuase it was the thing to do
and at 3 am he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly
that's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
and he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
because that's what it was really all about
and he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
and he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didnt think
he could reach the kitchen----
It was just like that poem from ‘The Perks Of Being A Wallflower’. A slash on each damned wrist---- no. A few slashes on each damned wrist. Before Michael even knew what he was doing, blood was flowing from each of his wrists, staining the white tile red. He crawled over to the tub and started filling it up, then got in, still in his boxers. He dipped his wrists in the water, and then draped them around the tub, watching the water turn color. It was just so red and bright and beautiful—and then everything was black.
The young homeless man pulled himself up, brushing off the dirt and debris from his pants and shirt. He rubbed his hands together, and breathed on them, trying to regain feeling in them. The man was only 19 and already lived without a home of his own. He peered into a restaurant’s window and watched them cleaning up. He wondered if someone would take pity on him and give him some of the left overs. He was never that lucky, he would never find any sort of solace in his life. The only things that had given him any hope into his life was when he met Jasey, but he had gone and ruined that with his temper. She was pregnant, but he was certain that she was better off without him.
The few people on the street avoided him like he was the black plague. He put his hands in his worn jacket’s pocket and started walking. He cast his eyes to the ground and kept walking, avoiding eye contact with anyone. In most people’s eyes, he was just a vagrant homeless man. He had grown a full beard and had not showered in days. He was going on day 28 of being homeless. He found an old piece of cardboard and a magic mark and wrote ‘Will work for food’ in big letters, and stood on an intersection, holding it up. In his reflection, he didn’t look like himself at all. He was threadbare. He had on an old worn red flannel jacket and faded black skinny jeans and old ratty Toms. He stood out there for an hour or so before someone stopped and rolled down their window.
Michael walked over, and the person, without a word, rolled down his window, handed him a one hundred dollar bill, rolled it up, and drove away. Micah dropped his sign and took off running to the nearest HEB, buying himself a microwavable meal and a razor and soap and hair products. He walked to a shitty roach motel and bought a room with the rest of his money, and took a shower. He washed all the dirt and grime off, and only put his boxers back on. He shaved his beard, and used the razor to cut his hair short how it used to be. He almost looked like Micah again. He heated up his food and ate, gobbling it up quickly. Then he sat there. Times like these were the only moments he would ever have to look forward to. With that thought, his stomach churned and he ran to the bathroom, and threw up his food violently, then sank to the floor crying.
He couldn’t do it any longer. He flushed the toilet and looked up, his razor setting there, looking oh so tempting.
Once on a yellow peice of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
and he called it "chops"
because that was the name of his dog
and thats what it was all about
his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
and his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts.
that was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
and he let them sing on the bus
and his little sister was born
with tiny nails and no hair
and his mother and father kissed alot
and the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
and his father always tucked him in bed at night
and was always there to do it
once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
and that's what it was all about
and his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
and his mother never hung it on the kithcen door
beause of the new paint
and the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
and left butts on the pews
and sometime they would burn holes
that was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
and the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see santa claus
and the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed alot
and his father never tucked him in bed at night
and his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it
once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
and he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
and thats what it was all about
and his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
and his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
that was the year Father Tracy died
and he forgot how the end
of the Apostles's Creed went
and he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
and his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
and the girl around the corner
wore too much make up
that made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
becuase it was the thing to do
and at 3 am he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly
that's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
and he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
because that's what it was really all about
and he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
and he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didnt think
he could reach the kitchen----
It was just like that poem from ‘The Perks Of Being A Wallflower’. A slash on each damned wrist---- no. A few slashes on each damned wrist. Before Michael even knew what he was doing, blood was flowing from each of his wrists, staining the white tile red. He crawled over to the tub and started filling it up, then got in, still in his boxers. He dipped his wrists in the water, and then draped them around the tub, watching the water turn color. It was just so red and bright and beautiful—and then everything was black.