My girlfriend likes to equivocate what she did throughout the day. With a wry grin, she leaves me guessing. I am left to discern her activities by her body language. With her dark eyes, she subliminally forfeits. I know she is just being bellicose as her fingers scratch into her own skin. She has vestigial scars from these common engravings. Yet, I cannot help but to feel acrimonious because she is free and I am not. Putting my jealousy aside, I find it laudable to be so unabridged. Then again, her life is mendacious because her own “freedom” has boxed her in. She grins at me and I realize the specious life she lives; her secrets are impervious and they are her cage. I wish she understood it would be expedient to tell the truth. If she doesn’t tell me, I can only presume that she has found somebody else. The thought is repugnant. I cannot fathom her life of parsimony; love becoming so cheap. She tells me a little white lie. “I’m joking,” she says. I think she is being facetious.
The fly was buzzing around me and I wished the incessant behaviour would stop. How he was enticing me to swat at him with my cumbrous book. I set my textbook down and realized the inspects were ubiquitous. Perhaps their sneaky presence has really been unctuous in the fact that they have moved in! I am sure that they want me to turn a blind eye and live in harmony with them, but it’s my onus to be parasite free. Hypocrite, I stutter. I want a life without bugs, but they constantly live on and in the human body. What a paradox! I ease my perched legs off the couch and languidly stand up. I notice a protuberant mound growing on the wall that I had not seen before. I wonder if it is ominous. Certainly it cannot be salubrious. the practical thing to do would be to have an exterminator check it out. Or, I could move and leave these problems to another. The humour I conjure of my landlord being vituperative towards me leaving him in a pigsty. The thought, I don’t find disconcerting, but it’s better to be the good tenant and do something now so that the problem doesn’t become worse. We need to find peace, I say; actually, I don’t say anything. Like Echo from Greek mythology, I am laconic.
A recipe in my files from long ago. Please let me know how it goes.
2 Cups rose petals
2 Tablespoons lemon juice
2 Cups sugar
1.5 Cups water
Wash rose petals well and remove the white part of the petals with scissors. Place petals into saucepan and pour in lemon juice. Over low heat, stir with wooden spoon until petals disintegrate. Remove from heat and place saucepan in a bowl of cold water because this will help keep the color bright. In a separate pan, combine sugar and water and bring to a broil over high heat. Pour the syrup over the rose petals. Over low heat, simmer about 10 to 12 minutes. Stir continuously until syrup thickens. Remove from heat and cool. Pour jam into small jars, cover and store or cover with paraffin wax and store.
A woman walks through the damp woods and is blinded by the cloth that covers her eyes. She is stunned, shocked and unaware of her surroundings. Pure darkness en-caves her. She is lost.
Where am I, she thinks. How did I get here?
She utters the one word every woman hates to say. “Help me!” She is vulnerable and exposed like a rape victim after her brutal encounter.
Who is this woman?
Hope is the setting of an alarm, but what if this stops? What if a person simply starts to wake up whenever they decide to because every day is exactly the same as the last? They stop remembering the days and hope dead will simply take them over. They start to understand suicide because to not truly live is to let life pass by. This had been their existence sine time has stopped moving, like they are stuck in a pot full of jelly. Still, they don’t care because what is the point of all this madness? Will they ever understand? What is the point of trying so hard, but getting nowhere? What can be done about it when an out is not shown? What if they see absolutely nothing and thus are led to a complete mental death?
I was in a room in a house. This house was much like the house I used to live in with my White Knight. I have always called this ex this including when we were together, but only in secret. He did a lot for me, and I always looked to him as an example of the type of person I want to choose for my lifetime partner. Even though things between me and the White Knight didn’t work out, I still appreciate the lessons he taught me and how much I grew in the short amount of time that we knew each other.
The house with the White Knight had windows only on one side of the house, but in my dream, these windows were replaced with a couch placed opposite of the couch we used to have. There was a man on the couch in the place where the windows were. He was a heavier set man who was talking about how much he needed to clear all of the junk out of his house. The house seemed pretty spotless and clean to me. There was however, a small box on the floor. It was shaped like a portable podium one would place onto a table for presenting a speech. The man said the box was ready to be placed into the garage and he was excited to share his joy of “cleaning out the clutter.” I diminished his joy by exclaiming, “Well, when it gets put in the garage, you’ll eventually forget about it and you’ll never really get rid of the item.” The man didn’t say much, so I ignored him and went to the other couch in the room.
A friend of mine was sitting there in a relaxed manner with one hand stretched out across the back of the couch. This friend lives in another country, one in which I hope to return to. We have been becoming closer the more we both get to know each other, and I am thankful for having him in my life. He truly means a lot to me in several ways. In fact, he reminds me a lot of the White Knight, and I could truly see myself with him in some hopefully near future.
I saw him sitting there and I curled up next to him like a cat. I placed my head into his lap and my knees were touching the place where my back would be if I were to be sitting in it normally. I was still ignoring the man with all of the stuff. What my friend did next excited me. He leaned down and kissed me upside-down like in the movie Spider Man. It was soft and sweet, I could almost taste him. This thought excited me further and I sat up in my seat to kiss him with our eyes parallel. He felt my feelings and my sadness dissipated with his kiss, and I became hungry for more. Our kisses became more passionate as we sucked each other’s tongues. I squeezed into him and tightly wrapped my arms around him. This dream kiss felt so real. I felt like we were truly together and a couple. I awoke because the man from the earlier discussion interrupted us, but I was still lost in the feeling of those kisses.
I was in a parking lot. I was inside of a truck and sitting bitch in the center. I do not know who the people next to me were. They were larger than me but I never looked at them. Instead, I looked around the parking lot, scanning, and there was another vehicle across the way, shining their lights towards me for no particular reason. This is something I hate and cannot stand. Lights on, no movement and the car running for sometimes an extremely long time. Why? Just turn the vehicle off when not using it. I squinted my eyes to see if I could notice who it was in the vehicle that was staring at me. I realized it was an old coworker who I used to work with at the Goodwill many years ago. He had asked me out on a date but I declined his offer and he ended up dating another coworker of ours. I felt uncomfortable with his eyes watching me from across the way and I slid down into the seat. I was trying to find comfort and safety with the people around me and I went to sleep.