Let’s Take a Walk by Krista Lee
outside.
there was your sulking shadow
a shadow in such degrees that can’t be measured by mercury
oh but the poison in the trail you have walked far exceeds that
the quiver of your body shocked me into a shiver
for that cold hollow soul beneath your flesh ached, swollen, and dying
in my delivery of vocal percussion
I stayed silent enough to hear your response
a response no from the mouth but the sound of your breath
a breath that hung heavily.
my hands rough though inexperienced glided swiftly tilting your chin
it’s also rough, scratchy, uneasy to a gentle touch
and you draw back jaded. cold. dense, not like pound cake
but more of a rigid source of fading life.
fading to the extreme of disappearing all together.
and in my thoughts tour thoughts appeared
without rose colored glasses to distract reality’s grip on imagination
what shallow hole have you followed a timeless rabbit?
I shall trade in for the shoes you have walked in and see as you see
and in this experience surely I may bring you back.
they are ragged, old beaten as a poor child trapped in a threatening place of domestic violence
my feet sink into the intimidating soles soaked with years of personal struggle.
stains enemies to oxiclean.
and I began to escape but in no way as to be though as freedoms
but leaving my own to take in yours.
to be released far from where I draw my comfort.
to relish in where you feel no comfort.
before your birth, sex was a symbol.
it was grimy, greasy, and desolate.
sexual pleasure was like buying bread. stale bread.
the kind that I gnaw on as my gums slowly bleed red.
and then I can see your surrogate mother, your illegitimate brother,
your sister diagnosed with mental decline, your dog who acts like a cat,
your dad fucking the Asian women across the street,
the one who works day shifts as a bagger, nights as a dominatrix.
and as all this begins to process you are there smoking weed
inhaling its fumes like oxygen. like if you stopped you would die.
the weed you exchanged for your virginity.
the virginity you exchanged for your weed.
then it seems you surrendered your sperm and found out you were a father,
a shitty father.
so you ran. so I ran.
following every turbulent step.
passing abandoned walls etched with graffiti
trying to hold your breath and wish for a new path to appear.
a path that would lead to a change of pace.
but it didn’t.
it became faster.
a traveling circus on a treadmill going up a hill.
sorta like Jack and Jill.
but instead of a pale it was a 12 pack of beer barfed out into a empty can.
instead of a hill it was a cracked , barren street that smelled of steamy piss.
and instead of Jack there was you.
and instead of Jill there was a hung over, anorexic, bitch in stilettos,
with a sprained ankle and no way to get home.
so you took to your place.
spent the late evening shooting heroine.
spent the early morning snorting coke.
spent the rest of the afternoon across the bed sheets.
jacked. wasted. alone. a complicated piece of shit.
childhood was a trap. as divorce is.
i saw the rapist who engulfed your innocence
that sense of fear when strewn scarce across your bed
waiting as if it was your last breath
no inhaler
and the unforgivingness towards the blood line to your existence
each step was pounding
pounding like an addiction
needles you have hidden in false promised crevices.
such reluctance for help.
no need for straight jacket.
no need for padded walls.
no need for family intervention.
everything would be ok as long as supplies stayed surplus.
I felt the tears you held back.
because you were a man.
though you had the fear of a boy.
a small fragile boy lacking companionship.
one who is taught to hide.
and with no breadcrumbs to follow home.
with no home to return.
and no basket full of goodies.
goodies to the definition of being lit.
and with no fat women to turn him into a glass boot wearing prince.
and most definitely no fair maiden with a voice of a flying rat,
one who would follow the subway steps to his doorstep.
I feel the anxiety.
and the need, the hunger for a filler to your vacancy.
a vacancy because the rent was low but high for you.
high for a poor man with no budget.
evicted.
i see a young man with so much potential sitting sheepishly.
dirty concrete underneath.
rotten sewage.
completely abandoned.
today I tried on your shoes.
they were heavy.
your eyes were heavy.
a tired heavy.
a high heavy.
a realness you shared with one glance.
I slipped off your worn shoes.
your hand raised pushing them.
you said as if they were your first words
“I have found a new pair.”
raspy. promising.
“Well, goodnight stranger.”
he lifted his feet.
there is a hope.
a phoenix.
reborn.
“can we not be, may you be my friend?”
your first friend.
“Walk with me then.”
taking your first steps.
wobbly. surprising. captivating.
without shadow. you are free.
free to run away.
but free to stay right where you are.
yet free enough to walk barefoot.
barefoot with no more restraints.
let’s take a walk…….
