Thursday, April 9, 2009

i'm gonna trigger you & i'm okay with that

How do we get from here to there, shedding fear and opening ourselves to the risk of just trying it? How does time break down the caveat of distance? How do I get to come home to you?
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I was walking the corridor of the mind and tripped over a thought. Cut my toe on a shard of memory that escaped the dustpan and broom. Damn. So, I plucked it out and threw it away for sure this time.
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My mother used to read us stories from these bible story books. They were these glossy blue covered set of moral redirections for the youth with large print and illustrations that captured the devastation of deviating from the path. Some stories were from the bible and some were modern day morals about not listening to your parents, stealing, and stuff like that. My favorite one to mull over was the story about boys smoking. I remember the picture of these boys dressed in jackets and ball caps coughing on cigarettes while the smoke wrapped around them in demon form. It terrified me. I’d rub my fingers across the illustration, etch the smoky grey devil in my mind’s eye while my heart raced and breath squeezed tight in my chest. My mother smoked. I swore to g-d and jesus I’d never cross that path. I’d never let the evil cigarette get me. Sometimes I think about that story while puffing a drag from my smoke. Not sure how I crossed that line, well I do actually, it was for a gyrl, but I don’t know when fear of smoking turned simply into shame. I can live with shame. And sometimes, while the smoke wraps around me in the air currents, I almost feel comfort in knowing that maybe the devil is holding me.

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