Heartless

I awoke with a sharp pain in my chest. My lungs burned and I cringed with every breath. My bed was warm and I assumed it was just from sweat. I must’ve had a nightmare. Darkness hung in my room like some sick Halloween decoration and I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t see the shadows lurking in the corners. Taking breath after pained breath, I heaved the covers from on top of me and staggered to the bathroom. I fumbled for the doorknob and my hands must’ve been sweaty because it slipped from my grasp several times. I finally managed to throw the door open and I stood over the sink, my chest heaving and my stomach rolling. When I felt I wouldn’t puke, I swallowed and flipped the light switch.

My first thought was, “I thought this shirt was white.” My second thought was, “So that’s why I’m warm.” Then, “Oh, my God, I’m covered in blood!”

There was a hole in my shirt. I stuck my hand in it and stretched it out so I could see the almost identical hole in my own flesh. I fell against the wall in shock, slid to the ground. My world was blurred; everything was hazy. I stumbled to the light switch in my room. The ceiling light ate away at the shadows and burst my eyes into flames. The bed. It wasn’t sweat. Blue sheets had turned brown and droplets lead into the bathroom. The doorknob was smeared with blood and a pool of red lay beneath my feet.

I blacked out for a while and, when I awoke, things were clearer.

When I had calmed down, I went back into the bathroom and, standing in a puddle of blood, I looked at my reflection once again.

I was unshaven and pale, my brown hair at a bohemian length and my eyes shadowed in a sickly purple. I looked like I’d been spat out of Hell.

I took off my shirt and tried to wash some of the blood off my chest. The hole was sore and it hurt to touch anywhere near it, but just from looking at it, I could tell it was some kind of miracle that I was alive at all.  The hole was a little bigger than my fist and situated just below and to the right of my left nipple. Now, I don’t claim to be a professor of anatomy, but I’m pretty sure that’s where your heart is supposed to go. Mine wasn’t there. I swallowed the pain and stuck my hand in to feel around. I had a lung and what I assumed was my own stomach, but no heart.

I ran through a list of my options in my head. In the end, I decided that I could go see a doctor, call in sick to work, or try to hide it. I decided the doctor wasn’t such a good idea. How would he react to a man missing his heart? How was I supposed to know I wouldn’t be taken in for intensive examination? The pain was bearable now, so I didn’t need any pills. I was behind at work, too, so skipping that was out. As crazy as it sounded, I had chosen to go to work with my heart missing. I groaned and stared at the hole in my chest. I would have to find a way to hide this mess.

I took a handful of ibuprofen, too preoccupied to even count how many. Then I went to my closet. With the doors standing open, I stared at the clothes for a moment, a bad taste forming in my mouth. Pushing the women’s clothes aside, I fingered through my shirts and pants. I came out with a pair of black slacks and a red shirt. If I happened to bleed on it, it wouldn’t matter as much.

Before putting my clothes on, I dabbed at the hole with a towel to soak up the blood, maybe clean it a little. When I was satisfied, I got dressed and ate a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. I couldn’t help but laugh a little when I saw that the box boasted they were “Good for your heart!”

It was a completely normal day at work, not counting the gaping hole in my chest. I sifted through mass amounts of names and files, read dozens of boring reports and pointless memos. By the end of the day, I was about ready to rip my own heart out, but to my misfortune or good fortune (I’m not sure which), it was already gone.

People left me alone for the most part. They could tell I was having a rough day by the expression on my face. I’m sure none of them could’ve guessed what was actually going on. The only people that talked to me all day were Janice, the secretary at the front desk, and Rob. Rob, the very bane of my work life, poked his head over the wall of my cubicle and stared at me until I noticed him. I resisted the urge to throw my computer at his head. Hell, if I wanted him gone, I could’ve shown him the hole in my chest. I imagined him passing out at the sight of blood and everyone at the office thanking me for shutting him up. Instead, he plastered a sickeningly cheerful smile on his face and actually spoke to me.

“Some of the guys are gonna go out for drinks after work today,” he said, still smiling like a maniac. “Elaine and I just got engaged.” He paused for a moment, obviously waiting for congratulations. I gave him my best blank stare and forced him to continue, dissatisfied with my reaction. “You’re invited, too. You could even bring Daisy!” My blank stare fell into a piercing glare and I tried with all my might to bore a hole in his skull with my mind.

“We broke up,” I said. He audibly cringed and for a moment I wondered if I were in a cartoon because he shaped his body in such an exaggerated fashion that I thought he must have been kidding. After a moment in his awkward pose, he shook his head.

“Sorry man,” he said. “Put my foot in my mouth on that one.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “You did.”

With nothing left to say, he glanced around the room awkwardly, stuck to the spot by his manners or something. He opened his mouth and I could see his tongue flopping around as though his brain was trying to form intelligible words but failing. Finally, he stuttered something about filing and he scurried off. I didn’t even try to be polite as he left.

The mountain of ibuprofen had helped with the pain, but as the day wore on and the pills wore off, it started to hurt more. I could even swear I felt my heart beating, or trying to at least. My grandfather had lost his arm in some military accident and he often complained about ghost pains. Even though my heart wasn’t in my chest, I could feel something constricting on it. I had rarely noticed it beating when it was in my chest. I would feel it during momentous occasions, a tender kiss or a heated argument. But now that my heart was gone, I felt it all day. I could tell it was trying to beat, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

I went to the bathroom around noon to choke down some ibuprofen, and when I got back, there was a box on my desk with a little purple bow. There was a note beside it. “Give this to Daisy for me.” The dips and twirls of the letters might as well have spelled, “Janice.”

I put the box on Janice’s desk, not even waiting for her to get off the phone before I started back towards my desk.

“Hey, wait! Did you get my note?” I stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“Yeah.”

“Well…” I swear I could hear the rusty gears in her brain turning with tremendous effort, screeching upon each other and sending sparks through her scalp to electrify her hair. It was almost like she fell asleep in the eighties and woke up twenty years later with an out-of-practice brain and the same big hair. Daisy was the same way.

“We broke up,” I said. I could hear her scoff in disgust as I walked away and as I rounded the corner, her shrill voice left a message in my brain.

“She deserved better than you.”

I watched the clock all day and, when it was a legitimate time to leave, I rushed home. I needed more pain pills. At my building, I quickly grabbed the mail from my box and headed up to my apartment, rifling through them as I stood in the elevator. There were so many bills. Credit card, electric, water. The elevator dinged and I started towards my door.

There was a letter from my aunt and an issue of Vogue with the name Daisy Boudine on it. I grimaced and put it on the bottom of the stack. I need to cancel that subscription, I thought.

As I stood at my door, I came to the last thing in my pile of mail. It was a Polaroid of some strange contraption. Unexplainably, I recognized my own heart in the center of the image.  Slowly, I deciphered the mess of cords and machinery around it. It seemed as though my heart was bound with cords and being tightened with every tick of a golden clock.

I turned over the photo to see a note written in bright red.

Because this is what you did to me.

-Daisy

Daydream

Last-Ditch Effort to Save the World

Nereid

William made me with water.

The first time I saw him, his hair was wet with perspiration and he hunched over with exhaustion. His breath was heavy and he slowly looked at me, examining my every inch. His mouth opened and a jumble of sounds fell from his lips. For a moment, he looked at me expectantly, but the moment passed and he released a sigh. With an air of disappointment, he raised his left hand and brought it swiftly across himself. Everything went black.

I nodded into existence the second time and William appeared stronger somehow. As the darkness faded, I leveled my eyes at his and he smiled. We were silent for a moment and I watched him stare at me. His eyes were filled with wonder, with pride.

He spoke.

“Can you understand me?” I swallowed the words and digested them, turning them over in my mind. Finally, I nodded.

“Can you speak?” he asked.

Before I could think, I replied.

“I’m not sure.” He gave a quick laugh, then leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.

“This is amazing,” he said to himself, almost whispering.

There was a knock on the door and, as he turned at the sound, my world faded to blackness.

I returned sleepily, the darkness lifting like a fog. William stood over me, worry written in lines across his face.

“Are you all right?” he asked. I nodded. The lines cleared and he breathed a sigh of relief as he fell into his chair.

“I didn’t expect that to happen,” he said. He must have thought I was worried, for he sat forward. “But I’ve taken precautions so that it won’t happen again.”

“Thank you,” I said. He smiled again and his eyes drifted over me in dazed wonder.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” I said.

“I’m William,” he said groggily.

“Thank you, William.”

I came into being quicker every time until it was as though a switch were flipped to make me live. William appeared less tired with every meeting and he was always excited to see me.

The seventeenth time I came into being, I was different. I looked down at myself to see arms and legs, a body. Like the way I learned to talk, I suddenly just knew that I was a woman. I looked up to see William trying not to stare at me. He faced away from me and held his hand over his eyes, but kept excitedly glancing at me to witness my reaction to this new form.

“What do you think?” he asked. Holding my left hand out and spreading my fingers, I looked through my watery palm at the room around me. I was still water, but I was also something different.

“It’s nice,” I finally said. He had now forgotten his shame completely and his hand dropped to his side. His pride radiated off of him and made me feel warm all over.

When he put me back in the bucket that day, my world did not go black. I slid into a dark gray and watched the room as the hours passed. William left and the room remained quiet throughout the night.

When William returned in the morning, I saw a sliver through the door as it opened and closed. Just beyond the door was a staircase that led upwards to a window. Through the window, I could only see green; he closed the door too quickly for me to get a good look.

He rolled up his sleeves, loosened his tie, and rubbed his hands together before holding them out towards the bucket.

I felt a wrenching, as though I were being torn. The world spun around me as I rose into the air and out of the bucket. William contorted his hands and directed my movement as I twisted and formed in midair. I could feel my arms and legs extending from my body, my fingers stretching and grasping. I could feel his magic coursing through me as I drifted slowly to the ground. It rushed through me, digging up every scrap of my consciousness and bringing it out. He meant to awaken me, but I had never even gone to sleep.

I sat on the floor breathing heavily, tired for the first time.  He seemed to notice and he waited a moment before he spoke.

“Are you all right?” he asked, trying to hold back his excitement. I took a moment to regain myself, then nodded.

“I am fine.” Though I didn’t look at him, I could practically feel him smile with pride.

“Well?” he asked. I looked up at him to see an expression of anticipation.

“What?” I asked. Without words, he frantically gestured towards me and took a sharp breath in. For a moment, I was unsure what he was doing. Slowly, realization dawned on me and I looked down at myself.

I sat on the ground, my legs folded beneath me, my skin wet and warm.

Holding my hands before me again, I stared at them, wide-eyed. I had skin. I pinched myself to learn what it felt like and I tested my muscles.

I stood. I sat down again. I blinked and smiled and rolled my eyes. The feeling of having a body was pure ecstasy. There were so many new sensations. I could see William’s face. I could hear his heavy breath. I could feel the dampness of the dark room. And, somewhere in the back of my newly formed brain, I felt an urge, an irresistible desire. I wanted something. William moved between me and the door and the desire flared. I wanted outside. I tried to push past him, to get to the door, but he held his hands on my shoulders.

“You can’t go there,” he said. I looked at him pleadingly, then tried to force him off me.

“You must stay here,” he said, holding me in place. His brow was creased, his pride fading. I was not behaving as I should. Still, I wanted to be outside. I needed fresh air; I needed sun. I summoned all of my strength and shoved William aside, knocking him to the ground. I didn’t care about him anymore. My mind was focused on that wooden door and the outside world. I took the last steps and held the knob in my hand. Twisting it, I threw the door open and stood at the threshold.

The steps were lit in a zigzag, shadows forming in diagonals on the smooth wood. At the top, the window was open and, through it, I could see trees. A breeze rolled in and slid down the stairs to me, embracing me and sweeping through my hair. I looked up through the window at the patches of sky that shone through the leaves on the trees and was filled with a calm.

There was a sharp pain in my back and everything began to fade. Unable to stand, unable to move a muscle, I crumpled to the floor like a marionette with cut strings. From the ground, I watched my world fade to the dark gray and felt my body dissolve into water. William came and stood over me, shaking his head.

He cleaned up my remains and filled the bucket again. When he was through, he sighed, checked his watch, and left me alone.

As he closed the door behind him, I caught a glimpse of the window again. I reached out for it, but couldn’t move. I was restricted in nothingness, trapped in a disobedient body. Still, I pushed and reached. I stretched out my hands and extended my legs. I thrashed inside the bucket, exploded against my cage. The hours stretched on and I became wilder. I tore at my surroundings, striving to get out. Then the bucket tipped. I sloshed inside my prison and held still for a moment, almost afraid to proceed. But the moment passed and I was back at it. I beat against the bucket, urged towards the door. I splashed and a stem of water extended towards the outside world. I swirled and the bucket tipped a second time. I struck my confinement and it leaned further. With a final slam against the bucket, it fell to the ground. In silent exultation, I flowed along the ground, striving, pleading for the door. Momentum carried me halfway across the room, but I urged myself forward. I needed the sky. I needed to be outside. I poured myself into the thought of an arm, a hand extending towards the doorknob. I felt the magic that William had put into me and I called upon it. Slowly, a tendril emerged from the surface of the puddle in the middle of the floor. It reached up, curling and swaying, extending towards the door.

When William returned home that afternoon, he found the door to the basement open. Wet footsteps began halfway across the room and adventured up the stairs. By the far wall, an empty bucket lay overturned. 

My Own Personal Rain Cloud

Accompanying Adam

Seatac airport is sunny and warm on the best days; cold, snowy and windy on the worst. Today, I had to wear two jackets and pull my hat as far down around my ears as it would go. The wind howled outside the plane and shook us as we lifted into the air. I’m not usually a nervous flyer, but I had to hold Adam’s hand to keep myself calm this time. His comfort spread up my arm and pulled shut my eyelids. I was asleep before we hit cruising altitude.

I dreamed that I was a taxi driver. It was dark out and my headlights illuminated the suburban street I drove down. I cast a glance into the rearview mirror and immediately regretted it. In the back seat was a couple. The woman was petite and blonde; she wore a scarf and a dark jacket. The man was broad-shouldered and ruggedly handsome. His brown hair was messy, but appeared more casual than dirty. He was several days unshaven and he wore a similar dark coat. They sat close together, their arms around each other and identical smiles on their faces. They were so cute. It was disgusting.

I focused on the house numbers nailed to siding and on mailboxes as I drew near to the nauseating couple’s destination. Slowing, I pulled up to the curb and turned off the cab’s ignition. I got out as the couple realized they were there. I opened the trunk as first the man stepped from the cab, then the woman. Their bags were heavy, like they’d packed their whole lives inside. I set one on the ground, but before I could put a second one beside it, the man started helping me. He grabbed onto the handles and, for a beautiful second, we shared the weight of the bag, his hands in contact with mine. It was cold and I wasn’t wearing gloves, but my hands suddenly grew warm. The warmth spread through my body and I was filled with a sense of calm. In the moment we stood there, our eyes met and I was lost in his eyes. I’d never lived by water before; I didn’t know how to swim. As a result, I was helplessly drowning in the seas of his eyes.

The woman came to stand beside him and the ocean dried up. My feet touched ground and my hands slipped from the bag.

“Thanks,” he said. I forced a halfhearted smile and he spread a real one across his face in response. The woman grabbed the suitcase on the ground and began rolling it to the house.

“C’mon sweetie. Pay the guy and let’s get inside, I’m freezing my ass off.” He rolled his eyes and set his bag on the ground, then sent a hand into his back pocket in search of his wallet. I started to get the last bag from the trunk and as I put it on the ground, the man caught my gaze again.

“Really,” he said. “Thanks.” I melted inside. “And sorry about her.” He jerked his head in the woman’s direction. For another moment, we stood and smiled at each other. The clouds of our breath mixed in the air and I felt a closeness to him. The moment shattered as crisp bills appeared before me.

“No problem,” I managed, taking the money. “Do you want help taking these inside?” He smiled and shook his head.

“Nah, I got it.” He cast one last smile my way and, one piece of overweight luggage in each hand, he headed up the walkway to the house. I stood and watched him reach the door, watched him stand next to the woman, watched them knock on the door together. As the door opened and a glow reached outwards and pulled them in, I shut the trunk and got back in the cab. From my seat, I could see into the living room window. A big woman with similarly big hair ushered the man and woman in to see the whole family. Hugs were exchanged and laughter was in their air. Everyone was smiling. The scene closed as another woman came to the window. As she spread her arms wide to reach the curtains, I got a full view of her shirt.

God hates fags.

With that, the family vanished.

I drove to the garage, clocked out, and headed home. Events jumbled together and I was suddenly leaning on the counter of my small one-bedroom. Coat and shoes off, Chinese food in hand, I stared dazedly into space.

I couldn’t shake him from my thoughts. That man I hadn’t even really met. His face, his smile, his laugh, they haunted me, hung over my mind like an ill reminder of permanent loneliness. I’d seen parades of people who were proud of who they were, what they were, but I couldn’t join them. How could I be proud of something that made me an outcast?

My calendar was on the last page; twenty-three days were marked with red Xs. It was the season of love and yet I was alone. Glancing at the clock, I sighed. It was late. I set down the Chinese food and pulled a red marker from the drawer next to the fridge. Carefully, I put an X through the twenty-fourth day, making sure it was just like the marks on all the others.

Another day had gone. Another day in solitary confinement had come to pass. I left the takeout box on the counter and went into my bedroom. I’d lost my appetite.

On the wall was a picture of a Christmas tree and a large empty space that sat beneath it. Sitting on my bed, I looked at the tree. That family had had a tree. That family had been laughing and having a good time. It was a season for gathering, for grouping. If only my own family were around…

I laughed to myself and shook my head. What family?

There was a sketchpad and sharpie by my bed. Picking them up, I uncapped the black marker and drew a box. I made pretty designs on the box and drew a bow on it. Capping the pen again, I looked at the present before me and forced a smile.

“I wonder who it could be from?”

The plane shuddered and I woke with a sharp breath. Adam felt it and he looked over at me. His eyes searched mine and I was suddenly lost in his oceans. I couldn’t swim, but here it didn’t bother me; I was content to float.

My dream must’ve played across my face because he smiled comfortingly and spoke. His words echoed through me, washing me in a wave of calm. Our hands still clasped and I squeezed his for strength. As he returned to his book, I leaned my head on his shoulder and drifted back to sleep.

“They’re going to love you,” he’d said.

Loss

This pen in a box, out of ink

This hat, nailed to my head

My hands under water,

But no soap can wash the dirt from inside my ring

A hammer in a pit

Your dalmation in my yard

One bee in a hive

And a book I kept shut.

Torn shoes.

Tattered sleeves.

I pump blood with my lungs

And breath air with my heart.

this poem sucks (and so do you)

Seriously lacking in originality

And not making up for it by any means

Misshapen and ugly

And you don’t even sound good

Something about rhythm

And how you’ve got none

Maybe you’d be a bit cooler

if you were slightly inspirational

But you’re not

A Tale of the Moon

The moon didn’t go down last night, so this morning, when the sun peeked his golden curls over the horizon and saw the floating pearl still hanging in the sky, he shrunk beneath the edge of the world in deep confusion.

“Am I early?” the sun asked himself in hushed words so as not to wake the still-sleeping children.

The stars, still alit in the darkened sky, gathered and looked down at the moon, trying to discover why he stayed in the sky instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour.

He was smiling.

This was no façade, no fake-smile that you put on for photographs with your grandparents.

The moon’s smile seemed to wrap twice around the glowing orb and his lips curved up to reveal sparkling teeth like diamonds.

The sun, from his hiding place just around the corner of the world, could see the smile, but not what the moon was looking at.

The stars, with a better view, huddled close to the moon and tried to look exactly where he was.

There, on the small, green and blue planet was a man and a woman.

They lay on the hood of a red car, hands intertwined.

She lay on him just so his shoulder was a pillow to rest her head on.

She noted that it was much more comfortable than her parents’ couch.

He noted that she smelled like lavender and raspberry jam.

The stars noted that they fit together so well, like pieces to a puzzle.

The moon saw it all.

He was so caught up in the beauty, the utter simplicity that he’d merely forgotten what time it was.

Several stars, so pleased with the moon’s happiness, soared to the sun’s hiding place and whispered in his honey ear, “Let him stay up there just a little longer.”

The sun smiled and nodded its titan head, causing the sky in Beijing to go dark for a moment then blink back to bright.

After a while, the man and woman decided it was time to head home.

He drove her to her parents’ house, where she was staying for a week or two until she got her feet back under her, and kissed her at the door.

He drove home with a smile almost as big as the moon’s.

When he reached his bed and slowly fell into his pillow, the moon heaved a sigh and slowly sauntered to the other side of the world, the sun quickly taking his place.

When people woke up, they all felt so well rested, but wondered why their clocks were fast.

two people fell in love
and it was poetry