My Soul Tokens

Ever have one of those days where you wish that damn tornado would come and take you to OZ! I would even wear those tacky red ruby slippers if I had to. I can’t sing, but there has to be a recording somewhere I can lip-sync, too. I would follow the yellow brick road, and if the crazy lion, straw man, and tin man want to come, they better keep their distance. I have enough crazy shit in my life and don’t need their problems. The wicked witch would totally meet her match, and I am not afraid of flying monkeys, I have 3 kids, so try dealing with them for a week. So bring it on! When entering the emerald city, that large castle thing with all the strange people about-- somewhat like a mall in the city—I will not be looking for the green head that has the wisdom, or the little man behind the curtain. I will look for the spa, deli, and better-looking shoes. When I am finished and had my fill of strange but far away-from-reality break from my life, I will return on a broomstick, chanti

On top of the hill, where the entire downtown core can be seen, she looks down to the small town where she grew up and twists the cap off the water bottle. Placing the yellow pills in her mouth, she drinks to flush them into her body. Deciding to stand motionless, to make that dramatic fall to the ground while her life drifts away, she stares into the evening sky. Falling into darkness, her body goes limp, never feeling the ground. Is it the beginning or end?

The tattered case shone with silver and gold. Appeared as well-traveled as he did. I did not recognize the music, and it seemed out of tune. He had a symphony playing in his head; You could see it in his eyes, drifting into his music. I never said a word; I just went through the motions and let the notes sore. He plays a somber melody, but he is not sad, he is where he wants to be, with his music and the people. The brick building frames him as a painting, letting the scene exist in history and in the present. Without the man sitting on his stool, violin case opened beside him, his bow worn, his instrument well cared for, you would notice a missing segment of space. After time passes and journeys are met, the music will play and play on it shall.

  Today Hurts I feel muddy and worn Torn to bits pieces that no longer fit Unsure of days ahead Fears strangle my senses I want the numbness to encase me I want today not to hurt