The Monster Child

FOWC with Fandango —Child

 

I stitched myself together

from the remains of my childhood self

Doctor  Frankenstein has nothing on me!

I was focused, driven insane by ambtion

to make something out

of nothing.

 

I have been asked:

Why use that face?

It’s damaged-it lacks character beauty its crooked and lopsided-  its enough to give anybody nightmares.

Look at those hands- misshapen, bent,  graceless – don’t touch me with those things!

Short, squat- I don’t know  where that body came from- Mother was tiny and petit Grandmother was tall – she had dancers legs and everyone wanted to take her picture.

The voice, oh GOD that voice. Do yourself a favor- talk softly because nobody wants to hear that noise in their ears.

And that brain- oh that defective, slow, colorless  brain-cobbled together by DNA from  the mental defectives on both sides of the family.

 

I stitched myself together

from the left over bits of my childhood self

the remains and the reminders of people nobody wants to remember

Go away Monster they say, they demand- here’s a dollar buy a clue- get lost kid

 

now when I look into the mirror

a monster that I created  looks back at me.

 

Defiantly.

 

#FOWC- CHILD

Ghost Train

This is how my started out: What Day is it Anyway? 

 

Today I took the Ghost Train to Seattle aka Coronaville.

I was all alone in the car that I normally ride in and normally there would be at least a dozen people  in here with me.

Today there was just me.

Today I think I learned how a ghost in an empty house feels.

amm

Photo A.M. Moscoso

A.M. Moscoso

#WDIIA

Get Thee Behind Me Coronavirus

RDP Monday: DELIGHTFUL

There isn’t a lot to delight in today.

I am cut off from my family because three of them have underlying health conditions that could leave them vulnerable to the Coronavirus and I am riding the train into Seattle everyday to go to work where in all likelihood I could be exposed to the virus myself.

I have entered the ‘ social distancing arena ‘.

On one hand I normally lead a very solitary life- I am a writer and to be honest I don’t exactly mix and mingle the way I used to. So putting myself into lockdown after work right now  isn’t exactly putting me out . The only difference in my life is my pizza delivery is taking a little longer then normal and my grocery deliveries are taking longer then normal too.

So am I withdrawn, world weary- maybe even  on the verge of becoming anti social?

Well no I’m not and this is how I know that for a fact.

My dog is one of the most happy,  outgoing, social and friendly dogs, that  have ever had or known.

He wakes up wagging his tail and doing his version of a happy dance once he gets out of bed. At night he piles his favorite toys up near our front door- I’m not sure why he does that exactly, but he seems to enjoy going through the process.

I’m guessing I helped bring him  to the place where the world is delightful to him and everything in it is just…PAWESOME. So I shall keep my eye on Hamish because I think he is my emotional  barometer and if it drops even a little I will go out of my way to bring it back up- for the both of us

but mostly for him.

AMM

 

HAMISH MACBETH-
Photo A.M. Moscoso

Hamish Macbeth
Photo A.M. Moscoso

HAMISH MACBETH Photo A.M. Moscoso

 

The Runners

 

RDP Sunday — SOMETHING

He dug up every letter,  faded concert ticket and a carefully folded panty from that magical night when he turned 19 and  she spent that first night with him

and ran back to her.

She  wrote a poem and signed it with a little picture she doodled with a shaky hand of her cradling her naked breasts

and she opined

that they were

Forever soulmates, let’s run away to Italy and you can eat my pasta while I listen to you play guitar in the moonlight under my window

and with this song of love in  hand she ran towards him crying in ecstasy with each step she took.

 

By the time they met, in that enchanted place they would call home

40 years had flown by without them

and the Grim Reaper was there too

at their housewarming

singing a song under their window with a scythe in one hand and a pair of panties and a handful of poems written in a shaky hand in the other.

 

Before he knocked the Reaper wondered

as he sometimes did

if these fragile souls needed something to live for

why some of them settled for something that wasn’t there

when there was so much around them

that

was.