There it was all laid out, the past, present and future. All jumbled in the mind, expressed in broken sentences, fragmented thoughts and jagged actions. She sat there with wide tired eyes with a pierced mouth repeating the same thing over and over again like she couldn't quite believe what she was saying or believe what she saw. It all came together like a mystery movie. Clues and images clicking together in her head to form one big picture. Sound bites of words spoken creating a melody, creating a sound track, to her life.
Her daughter sat there trying to believe the unimaginable. Trying to grip the unattainable never thinking that she herself could step outside her body and witness the atrocities that she was subject to. She watched in awe as they all stood by as bystanders while she was trying to cope and pick of the pieces of her life not to long ago. While juggling pieces of herself, suspended in the air, not quite coming together she was called upon. The under belly of the city seem to throw up cretons that swarmed around her to possess souls, wills, actions and thoughts. It all seemed a joke, an extravagant play as she put together the events that led her to the Venus fly trap of her humanity.
The house was adorned with a lot of trinkets from the past present and future. Every wall littered with propaganda of a better life better decisions and positive thinking. The room full of furniture that life seemed to steam roll over and the atmosphere bitter and greedy. She clutched onto the poison that she held in her hand tightly, as if it was her savior. "I want him out!" she yelled wildly with conviction in her voice. Anger and disbelief laced her words as she took another hit, held her breathe and let out a cloud of white smoke into the air. She sat her weary over excited 5 foot 8 frame down on the sofa and seemed to relax. Her skin looked dehydrated, a crayon brown, stretched against the bones that shaped her face. High cheek bones, beady eyes, sharp noise and thin lips that formed a gaunt look was framed by short hair that was fading due to lack of care. Better days, was the phrase that came to mind as her daughter looked around and took in the scene. To extend, extort and retract was her mothers specialty and now she seeks sympathy for chaos bought about by a substance so strong that it promotes deviant behavior.
"What happened?" her daughter asked patiently standing 10 feet away from her. Battling her own demons she stood strong for her mother understanding a weakness that life labeled her waste of space. As her mother recanted her story she noticed that it was broken, fragmented and missing vital information. Everything has a beginning, middle and end with a climax that can make, break or reveal the truth. It was evident that her mother was hiding something that presented clarity. Her daughter was no fool. She walked through the house to survey the damage. "He just exploded," her mother said walking behind her. "He couldn't handle that I didn't want him anymore, that I was moving on," she continued. She watched as her mother took another hit and held her breathe. She didn't want to hear any more, see anymore and felt it in her soul that she didn't want to be there and disgust set in as she realized she shouldn't have come. But she was obligated to check on her mother. An obligation bred from morals and received no reward or reciprocation.
"He's gone to jail and I want your brother out. He sat there in his room as I was being attacked like nothing was going on." Her mother stood there indignant like she did nothing wrong. But her daughter knew better than that. She took in the scene of the broken glass table and things thrown about, looked at her brother and knew it was way more to the story. Her mother quieted for a minute as she watched the recognition of the what really happened settle in her daughter eyes. A crack attack, her daughter thought. Her mother had a way of pulling all chaos to her and sending everybody around her to a vindictive burial ground. They was there to feed her habit, bow down to her cravings and risk it all to get what she wanted or consequences was extreme, words harsh and peace elusive. A craving that invoked violence, jail time and homelessness. Her daughter thought it was time to go and headed toward the door. Simply silent she walked out the door to her car tuning out the thoughts of the Venus fly trap, willed for the music to stop and concentrated on the next steps in her life, vowing not look back.
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