Forty-Fifth Paradox Writing

He carried his burden on his back.
She carried it over her body.
Every bruise begged for candy,
every word called for geese.
Each misplaced fold told a story,
the day her man lost his job.
Each wrinkle of hers whispered
of the times he’d been rejected.
“Sorry, hon’ I’ve been havin’ a hard time”
She ate his apologies for dessert.

They covered their eyes in the bright sunlight, forgetting how such light could sting after so much darkness. Every color, every smell, every sound overwhelmed their senses, but they didn’t dare go back. Five long months the two of them had spent in isolation cells, and the wash of faces and bodies shattered them to the core. Still, they held hands, so they would not be separated again.

Five months of watching personality cult propaganda, five months of pacing around their cells, five months of losing time. Now time was theirs. Now the world was theirs. As for their souls, they had forfeited those long ago to the one Person the government could confiscate them from.

Kidney for Sale! Kidney for Sale! Black market kidney for Sale! Costly kidney for sale!

Comes with pot-infected vessles, but from an otherwise healthy owner. Original owner can not guarantee his moral health or mental heath.

Kidney comes complete self-doubt, incrimination, and a lack of ethical boundaries. Buy at own risk (and the risk of others.)

They sat in chairs next to each other, with their hands reaching behind them. Neither said much with their mouths. Both prefered to speak with their eyes. One glanced about the room, unsure of his situation and the consequences of it. The other stared straight ahead, too numb to care. He fiddled with his hands, ignoring the feel of the metallic cuffs on them.

The light above their heads flashed on, and they heard a sharp click to their left. One turned to look, the other ignored the clicking boots on the concrete floor. Within a few steps two pairs of black shoes stopped in front of them. A voice coughed gruffly to get attention from one, while the other didn’t need prodding.

Eventually they both glanced up to see cold eyes. The eyes glanced back, expectantly, though they never seemed to recieve anything in turn. Mouths on the visitors’ faces moved, but the mouths on the faces on the bodies bound to the chairs stayed firmly closed. They knew it would only take a little prying.

It seemed strange, being forced to talk when they had been punished for speaking out in the first place. They didn’t dare speak now, for fear that more would come to join them. They had to protect the others, so they could speak out loud. One seem resigned to the fact that he may never speak again, while the other seemed terrified.

One of the interrogators reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife, and the light flashed off of the blade. In that flash they saw their entire lives for a second, and then the it. vanished.

It makes no difference,

If your mother’s angry at you, or her ex-husband who made her angry

When you’re 12 years old.

It doesn’t matter if your father’s beating your mother

Or the mother that beat him years ago,

When you’re 12 years old.

It doesn’t matter if your uncle wants you dead

Or the uncle that nearly killed him 22 years ago,

When you’re 12 years old.

It doesn’t matter who caused the blood to pool around your head,

When you’re 12 years old and dead.

What do I do to take care of this planet? Nothing too spectacular. I just save lives, every day.

Every hand I shake, every smile I make could prevent a suicide. Every small favor I do could prevent an act of violence, or an act of terror. Every time I wash my hands I could prevent a disease from killing thousands. Every tree I plant can preserve water supplies for millions. Every word I say could change one mind…which could change another.

Of course, I don’t work solo. I can save one life, but it takes a lot of individuals to save an entire world. It’s sad though, how many don’t realize how much they can change their circumstances. Some don’t even care; I call those people villians. I guess I care. I guess that makes me a hero.

I could wear  a cape I suppose, but I wouldn’t tell you that over coffee, now would I?

Yeah, you look all pretty in bright red shoes,

But who do you fool?

What are you selling, really?

Your music, or your body?

Your body, or your soul?

Your soul, or yourself?

You brag about how you changed from pastor’s kid to a pop icon,

Like you changed from jeans to a mini skirt,

But you don’t fool me,

With your juicy lyrics and swaying hips

With your black hair and your cherry lips.

I think you fool your eyes, your ears, your hands, your feet

And you think you’re having fun,

But we both know you sold that too.

As the previous visitors, the color had abandoned the wall, leaving it bare, white, and lifeless. Only sound remained, the soft dying hum of hospital machinery and the gasp of forced breathing. Light filtered through the dimmed window panes, but even that seemed sluggish and reluctant to stick around. Someone knocked on the door, but the man in the bed didn’t get up to answer it.

His eyes didn’t even open to see who came through the door anyway. Two men came in, watching him breathe, silently waiting for a response. None came. The first glanced to a second, perplexed. His lips barely moved as his whispered, “Are we supposed to ask him, or…”

The second moved his lips as if to say “shh”, but no sound came out. Both glanced at the man in the bed expectantly. Moments passed, and still, the room remained unchanged save for the growing tension. Shifting on his feet, the first man glanced at the man in the bed uneasily. He noticed the brace that had replaced the collar that once graced that regal neck. Even when laying down, the man stood proudly, though a hospital gown had replaced his robes.

Finally, the first man sighed softly. “When’s he–”

The second glanced at him pointedly, mouthing “wait.”

They waited. The moment they lingered for never came, and neither did the answer.

From my first heartbeat

I wanted to see the leaves on the trees

Up close, close enough to smell.

Instead I watch them through

The clouds, from far away.

I guess you can’t understand,

Won’t understand,

Until you see the trees

Through the clouds

Yourself.

Even then, how can I explain

The lack, the want, the need

To someone who has always

Had, and who 

Threw away.