My Friend Morton

"This is really delicious. I can't imagine how anyone has a better life."  Morton sat quietly in the shade of a large oak tree, savoring a crunchy snack as two bluebirds gossiped above his head.  He wasn't ready to swallow the joy he heard in their shallow speak, but he'll put it in his pocket for later.  The warm lemonade sun filled the sky around him, but not directly.  He didn't care much for that.  Morton swallowed the rest of his breakfast with a final crescendo, meticulously tidying his face as he searched for hidden morsels.  "I mean, seriously..." he simultaneously sighed & closed his eyes, resting on the wise bark.  The faintest of smirks began to creep along the side of his mouth.

Morton loved his home and was proud of how far he'd come.  Although modest in size, its collected wares displayed a thoughtful appreciation to his first true love.  The one who took him away from his other life.  His parents weren't usually there, as folks around those parts tended to never be.  Morton was a typical middle existence, confined to the demanding attention of all those sibling eyes begging for attention.  Responsibility didn't come easy, but he took it seriously.  Some days he would scour the back alleys behind the downtown bakeries, hoping there lay a feast around the crumbling bricks.  Some days his family didn't eat at all.  He often felt alone while tending to his younger kin, day dreaming about creating a life bigger than what could ever be found staying in the corners of the room.

"Just a few more minutes in this moment..." his shift would be starting soon.

~~~~~

"I always wanted to make a difference."  Morton proudly said to no one as his eyes grazed upon today's harvest.  A surge of determination filled his voice.  He found this bustling world to be the pin that inspired his choices, both in cooking and in life.  Although no one ever noticed his contributions, he actually enjoyed getting up early now, excited for the days' purpose yet to be written by his knife.  Not like before when he would sleep all day after brawling into the dawn, doing anything to escape his circumstantial boredom.

Morton spent most of the week working in a stale restaurant, the old familiar faces blurring past while he stayed focused on his goals.  He delicately sliced & chopped, prepping a beautiful offering for the tired scavengers who never noticed.  He often distracted himself by imagining his own place, the signs' firefly like glow beaming his name.  Morton thought of the customers who would wait all week for a chance to sit at his chef's table, patiently watching him weave a masterpiece of fine delicacy from scratch.  He knows one day his presence will tremble the lessor creature.  And he liked that very much.

"MORTON!!  I need that side in 90 seconds."  demanded his boss.
"On it chef." he hoped, emitting an aire of fraudulent confidence as he flipped his precisely cut vegetables sautéing in the small fry pan.  He respected what he could learn from the boss, but wished he would put him in charge some times.  Just once, then he could prove them all wrong...

"Hello Miss, how are you today?"  chirped the host.

"Fine." assertively sending a half-grin as she walked past, headed for the usual table.  The stench of her judgement lingered deep into the kitchen.  What was her story, Morton wondered.  It was the one customer he always noticed because her indistinct attitude bothered him.  He didn't like the courage she emanated, from her curls to her frilly dress.  She sat there, freedom to eat her toast and cottage cheese while his talent was stuck behind a "yes chef."  he was jealous.  His eyes seething as he stared out at her tiny frame.  She knew what she was doing and he hated her for it.

~~~~~

"This is really delicious. I can't imagine how anyone has a better life."  Morton sat quietly in the shade of a large oak tree, savoring a crunchy snack as two bluebirds gossiped above his head.  He wasn't ready to swallow the joy he heard in their shallow speak, but he'll put it in his pocket for later.  The warm lemonade sun filled the sky around him, but not directly.  He didn't care much for that.  Morton swallowed the rest of his breakfast with a final crescendo, meticulously tidying his face as he searched for hidden morsels.  "I mean, seriously..." he simultaneously sighed & closed his eyes, resting on the wise bark.  The faintest of smirks began to creep along the side of his mouth as he heard her struggling to loosen the heavy chains again.  He patted his chef's knife that lay near him on this beautiful day, "Soon friend we'll get to work."

A Year Of Writing: 2015-7-1108

It hurt.  It always hurt when I thought about it, but I could never bring myself to stop.  Why did I crave a good, honest real-life torture.  what did I ever gain by thinking and looking, looking and thinking, driving myself mad to the point I could no longer scream?!

more pain behind these pale eyes who had already witnessed enough.

I tried to quit.  I did.  I found ways to trick my brain into thinking of literally anything else, but those moments escaped quickly.  I would cry far too often because of it.  c’mon, just a little bit of relief… but the images always found their way back into my blood, like the drug I was fiending for.

It wasn’t fair.  I’d already hurt enough.

~~~~~

I was waiting for the elevator to bring its bell of arrival, I’d pushed the call button like forever ago.  I stared down at my shoes and my clothes, wishing I was someone else.  somewhere else.  I want a new life, just for a bit.  Total Recall really had something there.  A new body to flaunt or hide, it would be fun.  I kid everyone, everyday - these clothes aren’t me anymore.  That person doesn’t exist.

finally.

The usual crowd stepped into our communal casket, day after day, head bowed towards the cold light transmitting from their hand.  No one ever says good morning anymore, it’s quite annoying.  I’m not any better, I’m such a hypocrite.  Something distracted me today and my eyes remained upright.

It was quick, almost nothing.  My soul sent up a signal flare, triggering the side head tilt that meant more.  I had to see why.  Something was calling my attention, but it was void of any sound.  It was howling silently to spot it.

And then I did.

And then I stopped breathing and then I passed out.  As I did, my brain acknowledged what I’d been socially inflicting on my eyes for months, was now in front of me.  And my bodies’ best defense was to give up.  I wasn’t strong enough to sustain real life.

A Year Of Writing: 2015-4-1007b

“what time is it?  how long have i been asleep? “  There is partitioned light bursting through every cracked wooden slat, filling the room, but few shadows.  I panic; launch my darting looks into a heap, scattering them around the room, hoping something will sonar back the answer.  nothing.  “it’s chilly, but barely fall adjacent.  i know this.  i’m nearly hyperventilating on this comfortable mattress, while millions of people wake from theirs, oblivious to my situation.  eager to start their day by gorging on pancakes & guzzling obnoxious coffee.  Or at least simulating to the best of their loneliest ability.  and topping that off by watching fucking stupid television, like there isn’t serious problems in the world.  selfish dicks.

but who really gives a shit anyway.”

…focus…

“maybe if i get out of bed, i can figure this out.”  The familiar man and dog are right where they should be, but something is still off.  The quad-legged slowly engages his muscles, temporarily atrophied from the night before; he looks my direction.  “i know.”

We get up and assemble the pieces that make his morning meetings tolerable.  I stare at everything either attached or in my hand.  “the notion these green, fancy squared plastics are any better for our planet is a fucking joke, especially.  But what option do i have… there’s too many causes now and it just makes me overwhelmed and I wanna do nothing.  it’s exhausting having a conscious.”   

I carefully peel the front door open, half expecting a boogity to be standing there, asking what took me so long.  But stillness.  A washing of silvery tones over the entire overly bright scene, as if it were graylight savings.  I cautiously step one in front of another, heeding the warnings of isolation as I leave everything behind.  I miss those days where something familiar would be always be around.  My tethered friend looks to me for answers.  “let’s keep going...”

There’s a suspicion the faders aren’t in sync.  The left light is way elevated, while the right people is extinct.  “this doesn’t add up.  did i drink too much last night?  i thought i only had one beer, but did i fuck up with more?  was the entire nights’ rememberance made up, as each minute of clarity shows itself?  i feel wobbly, hazy and on the brink of tossing up those desserts i ate last night.”  My eyes are mere dashes, covered only by their lids as the glow breaks through the flesh.  I struggle to understand what is happening to me, my body.

That’s when they came up from their hiding place.