Spic-n-Span

I squeezed my toothpaste ’til it all ran out into the sink in one enormous glob of goo, grunting, “Fuck You” under my minty-fresh breath; imagine if you will, that it was all of their throats, at once, being squeezed out ’til their lil’ spic-n-span voices bled out into this grimy, slimy cesspool of existence, that could never get clean.

Yes. Them.

You, to the brazen barbarians who charged my gates, storming on the hooves of black horses in your Calvary, kicking up dust at the threshold and tarnishing my crown that was only a gift. A gift that would also have been bestowed upon your head. But Grace doesn’t lie in dust mixed with blood. The two form concrete too hard for the strongest of hearts to penetrate and flood.

You, to the backstabbers and the shapeshifters who spoke beneath me and swept those words under the rugs for safe keeping. We should know by now, that I do eventually clean house with a mop and a broom; on my hands and knees with the toothbrush that I poured your words over only moments before. It’s no wonder I gag on half-truths and snippets of scorn, only to be choked with the enemies share, forlorn.

You, to the gossip howling monkeys and the babbling buffoons, who sifted sinister rumors through the Eastern Lows as I traveled the Western Winds. A shapeshifter gypsy, a traveling whore, a raging bull with an insatiable appetite for pleasure and pain … and something much more. A crazy loon who’d kill to win, as if you haven’t felt that resentment and rage … and sin … boiling within. Dear God, come on, like you never knew what abuse felt like, or how trauma seaps into your bones, like venom from the wasp from their nests and from their homes. Yet, still I turn the other cheek, alone.

You, to the abuser and the accuser who pricks the veins beneath my skin, like the terrible twos at the party popping balloons. Pick, prick, pluck, pop! Not once, but a thousand times over. The echo of each adding up to the silence of an atomic bomb in your ears, like that of a wayward spirit screaming in your space, from the corner of the nut house ward wing, six feet under the shadows that cling. The gaslighting of the newcomer, or so you think; you think I haven’t walked theses halls or sung that tune. The experience under my straight jacket would leave most men to decay. Once you’ve been down that road, unconditionally, unfairly so, trauma beaten in, scorned and whispered about. To all those accusers, I shout, “So within, so without!”

You, to the lovers who’ve come and gone and lied. To those I break like a sapling under the pressure of a stampede of wildebeasts in migration to and from home to home, roaming just to roam. A sapling bends under pressure but never breaks; however, snapping spines and bleeding through, I sat there half-kilter, like a splintered thorn, crying out to all the world to hear of this pain. The lies, the mental abuse, the twisted truths … why not come forth with an arrow straightforward? Your zig-zagged flight path had me spinning in the height of paranoia and schizophrenia – and mania, in sickness and in health. I suppose a bee line is of no use; everyone likes a challenge.

You, to the wanderers of night who opened your homes to sleepless nights, I thank you. You, to the warriors who kept this lonely soul company as trains sifted by my head in a one track mind, I thank you. You, to the bearers of good news and gifters of glee, when the skies bled gray and the air grew crystals, I thank you. You, to the steadfast who knew me in this space, to be who I am and ought to be and treated me as such, I thank you. You, to those that have come along my path, fresh and new with bouquets in hand and crowns adorned with jewels for all of us to place upon our heads, I thank you. You, to the inspired and the tired, weary souls that keep on tickin’ and kickin’, I thank you. You, to the crazy ones whose limits know no bounds, whose imagination and love stretch to corners of the edge of reason, my God, I thank you.

Yes. You.

I squeezed my soap ’til it all ran out into the sink in one enormous glob of goo, exhaling, “Thank You” under my sudsy breath; imagine if you will, that it was all of your love at once, being squeezed out ’til your voices rang true, through and through, singing, “I Love You.”

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