Baby, I Make the Corner Cry
There is a state line dividing what DNA never could
I wake up in a fit. My lungs are screaming for oxygen I can’t seem to pump in quick enough. Your blood is on my hands and I try desperately to wipe it off on my jeans, my sweater- anything, but it won’t come off! I’m pulling at my hair. I’m screaming inside. I look up and people are staring- the pawns are staring. I do not fit into their perfect little pictures. To them, I am the one who does not fit in. Don't look at me like that; you are no better than I am!
I feel exposed. Scared. What am I doing? I am suddenly alone, wishing for a remedy. Suddenly, it is him who comes to mind with his drunken manners. What is it that has caused him so much pain? Suddenly, I am not so proud of myself- It would appear I have found myself a newly born idol. I want his pity; I want his numbness; I want his spirits. I want it all to go away.
I am broken out of my hallucination, looking down at my small, clean hands. There is nothing there. I exhale, letting go with it, a slight smirk. It is as if things are moving in slow motion.
There is a group giggling. Black suit and tie pawns do not giggle. Heck, they don’t even chuckle. The small group of girls is sitting towards the back of the bus. There are four of them, and I am surprised I have not noticed them sooner. The one they all seem to gravitate towards is in the center. I stare intently at her and observe the scrawny figure she is encased in. She has piercing sapphire blue eyes coated thickly in black. Her soft, rose lips tell the story of s secretive smirk. Her hair is bleached to near white, having no shame in dark roots that expose themselves near the top of her head. The bones hiding under her clothes show no shame is being exhibited, nearly protruding out from her pale cheeks and fingers. Her bony chest is overly revealed, gathering the attention of anyone who cares enough to notice as she leans across the isle to speak to her friends. My eyes trace the shape of her unhealthy body under her clothes in alluring attentiveness. It is as if the three girls surrounding her do not exist. She is exotic. She is somehow beautiful.
Suddenly, the girl's friend notices my actions and nudges her in the ribs. Those cold piercing eyes are suddenly on me, and those smirking lips transform into a scowl and form the words 'creep'. I continue to stare, enjoying the knowledge that it is all just a game. Enjoying the fact that all I can do is provoke. And so the language continues, and so do the insults and names and yelling. But I am not the one making a fool of myself.
The rest of the conscious passengers are looking attentively between the two of us, anticipating any actions, showing the untangling of fear. The driver asks if there's a problem and everyone's gaze turns to the endless black outside. In the distance, there is the dim, shallow light of a town and it isn't long before the bus is parked and the driver announces this is the last stop and everyone is to get off. His eyes are trying to pierce their way into me; they are trying to weaken me, but I won't let them.
I wait for the blonde to pass me; her hips swinging seductively as she hopes off the steps of the bus, her friends following close behind as they shoot curious glances my way. The black suit and tie pawns pass too, keeping their gaze straight ahead. I intimidate them. Soon, the bus is nearly empty.
"I don't want any trouble," the driver says sternly. I exhale, and get to my feet, which feel foreign and unused like a child taking its first steps. My hands are shaky as I reach out to the railing. It is already cool with the essence of the outdoor weather. And with one last, choking breath, I close my eyes and step out into the brisk, cold air without a second glance to the driver.
I feel exposed. Scared. What am I doing? I am suddenly alone, wishing for a remedy. Suddenly, it is him who comes to mind with his drunken manners. What is it that has caused him so much pain? Suddenly, I am not so proud of myself- It would appear I have found myself a newly born idol. I want his pity; I want his numbness; I want his spirits. I want it all to go away.
I am broken out of my hallucination, looking down at my small, clean hands. There is nothing there. I exhale, letting go with it, a slight smirk. It is as if things are moving in slow motion.
There is a group giggling. Black suit and tie pawns do not giggle. Heck, they don’t even chuckle. The small group of girls is sitting towards the back of the bus. There are four of them, and I am surprised I have not noticed them sooner. The one they all seem to gravitate towards is in the center. I stare intently at her and observe the scrawny figure she is encased in. She has piercing sapphire blue eyes coated thickly in black. Her soft, rose lips tell the story of s secretive smirk. Her hair is bleached to near white, having no shame in dark roots that expose themselves near the top of her head. The bones hiding under her clothes show no shame is being exhibited, nearly protruding out from her pale cheeks and fingers. Her bony chest is overly revealed, gathering the attention of anyone who cares enough to notice as she leans across the isle to speak to her friends. My eyes trace the shape of her unhealthy body under her clothes in alluring attentiveness. It is as if the three girls surrounding her do not exist. She is exotic. She is somehow beautiful.
Suddenly, the girl's friend notices my actions and nudges her in the ribs. Those cold piercing eyes are suddenly on me, and those smirking lips transform into a scowl and form the words 'creep'. I continue to stare, enjoying the knowledge that it is all just a game. Enjoying the fact that all I can do is provoke. And so the language continues, and so do the insults and names and yelling. But I am not the one making a fool of myself.
The rest of the conscious passengers are looking attentively between the two of us, anticipating any actions, showing the untangling of fear. The driver asks if there's a problem and everyone's gaze turns to the endless black outside. In the distance, there is the dim, shallow light of a town and it isn't long before the bus is parked and the driver announces this is the last stop and everyone is to get off. His eyes are trying to pierce their way into me; they are trying to weaken me, but I won't let them.
I wait for the blonde to pass me; her hips swinging seductively as she hopes off the steps of the bus, her friends following close behind as they shoot curious glances my way. The black suit and tie pawns pass too, keeping their gaze straight ahead. I intimidate them. Soon, the bus is nearly empty.
"I don't want any trouble," the driver says sternly. I exhale, and get to my feet, which feel foreign and unused like a child taking its first steps. My hands are shaky as I reach out to the railing. It is already cool with the essence of the outdoor weather. And with one last, choking breath, I close my eyes and step out into the brisk, cold air without a second glance to the driver.