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Modern Medicine - pg. 7I skirted the streets until I reached my house, still clinging to every thought of Kitlo. My mind was covered with a dense fog, and I had to focus on the one thing it left within the clarity of my clouded vision. My bike was dumped haphazardly in the front yard, but I managed to hold my attention span to the cat food long enough to bring it inside and fling it into the appropriate cabinet. Stardust gave a welcoming mew as she trod down the stairs, and I nodded to her. I shook my head ferociously, hoping the fog in my head would float out of my ear canals, but it was no good. Kitlo's eyes kept rising to the center of my vision.
I tossed myself onto my bed, so charged with focused thought I would never fall asleep, but not knowing a better place to sprawl out and think, I lay down, staring at the mishmash patterns on the ceiling. Images and thoughts ran relay races in my mind, struggling for the most attention.
Modern Medicine pg. 6I slid around the crowded roads, dodging runaway cars, on the way to the pet store. Fighting back my whirling thoughts, I rounded curves and alleyways, watching the passerby. I gave them personalities as I sped past. The thin woman carrying a young child into an independently-owned grocery store--she was one of the nation's many hungry but had sense. She worked long hours as a waitress in a run-down restaurant losing money to McDonald's, formally being a lawyer, but having perjured herself for the sake of her client got her fired. Her name was Cierra and the baby's Matthew. Cierra is a Christian, but she's losing her faith in her god after all she's been through. She never had a husband--Matthew is her constant reminder of her teenage rape. She loves hymns and collects the cheap ones on CD she finds. I filled in her every space, down to her core beliefs and her darkest secrets. It was a highly philosophical and enjoyable game, tempting the use of inductive reasoning and thought to its
Modern Medicine pg. 5After staring into space for a few more moments, I put my diary back in its place and awkwardly rifled under the bed for my laptop. I powered it on, sending my wallpaper--a depiction of a girl in a white dress letting free fireflies into the alleys of an arcane umber city and into a bright and shining blue sky--into full view. I contemplated it for a moment, letting my mind caress each idle thought, then clicked on the icon for Mozilla Firefox and relaxed into a heap of pillows, watching the browser load.
I clicked in and out of tabs, setting up a Goo Goo Dolls playlist on YouTube, absently checking my email for any new comments on my poetry or messages from viral friends, opening the poetry website I belonged to.
Fingers tapping indolently, I read the latest comments on my latest posted poem.
BricksOfGiza - Heartfelt and astounding. Keep up the good work.
SkyMelody_Song - True to your own emotions, freeform, and individual.
InspiredByLampposts - I w
Modern Medicine pg. 4I blinked wearily, fighting back the soon-to-leave fatigue. I flipped through the leafs of crisp white paper, lined with light blue and worn at the edges. I traced long-ago doodles from some unknown origin of thought. I toss back a page or two, revealing January 1st.
"January 1st, 2009
A Million Lights
The stars that twinkle on every
New Year's Eve
Shine for everyone
Even when they cannot be
For they remind us
We all came from
And we will all return
To those stars
The next day, I, groggy and high on caffeine, had been dragged to the humane society. I had stared back at the countless rows of animals, their eyes begging of love, piercing mewls pleading for affection and a home, faraway barks screaming for attention. So much pain was packed into the room it was tangible. These animals knew not that they mattered. They knew only of pain and betraya
NiP - In Today Walks TomorrowI fidgeted from my stone seat, eying the sky, wondering when this never-ending event called apprentice graduation would end. What I'd do to escape this. It was nearing the end, hopefully. I'd have to run off quickly to avoid running into Rei. She would force me to go to that wretched after-party that all graduating apprentices went to. She was up on the speaking-rock now, glowing with blue light, announcing those graduating with high honors. I couldn't understand how I'd possibly thought her an angel the first time I'd seen her. It was deeply annoying, how much she'd butted into my personal matters. She acted as if I was her daughter. I personally didn't care too much for that, if I could say it that lightly without possibly bursting into spontaneous wry laughter. I hated it to my very core. I didn't need another mother. The one I'd had had lied to me enou
Modern Medicine pg. 3I treaded up the stairs, being careful not to make a sound. My parents were undoubtedly asleep, for they spent their time during the week with hectic work schedules, too busy to care for Steven or I. My father would be angry if you woke him up because my mother had died, let alone by accident. I had learned to walk carefully long ago, as had Stardust, who was scaling the stairs beside me, not making a single sound.
The door to Steven's room was always shut nowadays. He used to have a door made of old scraps of wood he affixed to the wall himself--during a frigid winter weekend. He'd whittled countless cats and attached them together using hot glue, then filled in the openings with other scraps. It was an amazing sight, but my parents had taken it down when he'd gotten sick, fearing he might somehow damage it, by sitting around drawing in notebooks and laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. I'd protested, sayin
Modern Medicine pg. 2I woke to a sandpaper tongue tickling my face. I gently shoved Stardust away from my face and rubbed the drowsiness from my eyes, struggling to remember what day it was. Sunday, that was it. I stood up and staggered inside, fighting the fatigue while Stardust scaled the stairs beside me, exuding energy.
I collapsed into my bed. It was an old bed, from when I was six or seven. My parents hadn't seen the need to get a new one, since I was so short. I liked it, though. The faded pink canopy with worn, rosy plaid sheets, the striped pillowcases stained with old coffee and melted dark chocolate, the slightly-cracked overhang where I played my acoustic guitar and composed music, until a couple years ago, when I terrified it would cave in and I would fall and sever some vital artery with an extremely complex name. As I examined each surface with my eyes, nostalgia building in my core, I felt the cushiony feel of the old spring bed cave in with the antiquated springs in its core, covering me i
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