Soul Surgery

Photo A.M. Moscoso

For the better part of

my life

People have told me

I could be so much more

then who and what I am right now.

 

For the better part of my life

I tried my best to be more

then who and what I was

only to have the people in my life say

I could be more then who and what I am right now.

 

And then one day

I told the people in my life

goodbye

and found

I was just fine

the way I was.

 

Daily Addictions  Prompt: Augment

Consider Yard Art

Photo A.M. Moscoso

This is a snowman- He showed up in all of his glory on Christmas Eve and he and his snowy friends left the day after Christmas.

His time with us was brief but it was magical and fun.

My dog tried to run him off because- silly boy- he confused the snowman with yard art. My dog hates yard art. Gnomes, Yard Jockeys, Plastic Angels and Manger Scenes. I’m not sure why exactly.

Well.

Yes I do.

But it wasn’t on purpose:

Hamish Macbeth
Halloween 2015
Photo by A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

This is Vlad III, also known as Vlad the Impaler . Vlad lived to be 45 years old, but he found immortality in Hollywood and has done well for himself in the Cosplay Community.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

This is someone’s tomb in a cemetery in New Orleans.

They took up residence here after they died.

The Gate actually opens and closes and there’s enough room to sit on the stoop and take in the rest of the neighborhood and think about things. Like maybe you’d like to move there one day.

That would change things a bit for the current residents but I think they’re pretty easy to live with.

So to speak.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

The Snowman, Hamish’s Fears, Vlad and the Person In The Crypt all have or had a place to call home.  They were in residence. It felt permanent, it looked solid and then one little thing or maybe a couple of big things happened and it all changed.

Is that such a bad thing?

I don’t think so, do you?

 

Daily Addiction Prompt: RESIDENT

 

 

The Great Lie

I want the perfect body

the perfect smile

the perfect laugh

I want to be like

the perfect

women in the glossy, slick expensive

magazines.

 

I’d kill myself

starve myself

punish myself without mercy

to be like the perfect women

revered

in the bible of female existence

the glossy, slick, expensive magazines.

 

If I am like that

tall, cool, white and blond

maybe

I will love myself

like one of those people

who fall in love

with the women

in the slick, glossy, expensive magazines.

 

But, oh the magic but,

if

I loved myself first?

Love thyself is a lie

who can do that

when your mirror screams in horror

when you stand in front of it

and it’s just the three of you

hating each other.

Like the dark twisted figures

hidden between the pages

of the

slick, expensive magazines

Daily Addiction Prompt: Frail

The Graceless Cadaver

Wrapped in a silken fantasy

swaddled in a velvet lined delusion

bathed in smoke and wine

and

homemade embalming fluid

The Graceless Cadaver

feeds on stolen time

and

the ruined dreams

of the dark and

unveiled

other.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Daily Addiction Prompt: Disclose

The Question of Bones

Photo L.S.. Moscoso

Can I afford to not look up

to look straight ahead

with my eyes shut tight

Can I afford what that will cost me?

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Don’t think

don’t speak

do not wonder

Can I afford to do that?

I’ll save a lot and have time to spare

one day.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Or I could hang the cost

run up the tab

and let my curiosity run free

a wild monster roaming the world

looking for more, feasting on too much, it doesn’t wear a watch

it doesn’t care about the bill when it comes due

Can I afford to do that?

Can I really afford to dream?

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Daily Addiction Prompt: Afford

When The Moon Hits Your Eye

 

Once  on my morning commute  my  train had mechanical issues and was cancelled.

That meant that there was standing room only and the people further down the line who normally caught the ‘pickup’ train were put off and angry that there was standing room only when they got on.

One passenger had issues, my guess was I was sitting in the seat he normally sat in. He could have stood anywhere but he decided to stand in front of me, with his back turned towards my face.

All I could do from my seat was watch the waxing and waning of this new Moon  whose orbit seemed to degrade at times and appeared to be in danger if crashing into my head.

I kept hearing Robot warning Will Robinson of Danger.

Eventually I was able to settle down contemplated the wonders of the Universe, the dangers of the Universe. Why was I here at this exact moment in time with that man’s posterior swallowing up the horizon?

I could not think of  polite way to say, ” Could you get your ass out of my face?”

It was gross situation,  but what could I do?

Then it hit me.

Reclaim my space! That was the thing to do.

But how?

And then it dawned on me.

I took a picture of it.

I wasn’t going to look up or down. I wasn’t going to go to my happy place. I wasn’t going to stay right where I was.

That’s the thing about standing your ground, most of the time it’s not a glamorous place to be in.

But one can make the most of it.

amm

Daily Addiction Prompt: Gigantic

 

All Who Enter Here

 

Photo A.M. Moscoso

When I was in my late 20’s I began to have crippling, brain scrambling Panic Attacks.

I’m not sure what kicked them off into high gear but they always followed the same pattern: I would wake up in the middle of the night thinking I was going to die and then after that thought took root I couldn’t breathe.

They were horrible. Even if I could get through the attack I was to scared to fall asleep. So on top of the attacks I began to suffer from the affects of lack of sleep- the worst one by far was depression.

So what did I do?

I read every book I could find about death.

I read books about forensics, I read about the process the body goes through after it dies and I also read medical articles about the process of death itself.

I even schooled myself on the customs and folklore concerning Death in cultures around the world.

This went on for a couple of years.

I understand now that this was a risky path- I could have easily taken what I was learning and topped myself off or it could help me overcome my fear of waking up in the middle of the night thinking I was going to die.

What I was doing was learning about the thing I perceived as my enemy so that I would know it for what it was if it did try to get me.

So did it work?

With what I learned I became a Mortician’s Apprentice, I write about death and ghosts with my own special twist. In fact, I think going down that path made me a better writer.

I also know it gave me a warped sense of humor and a lot of patience for the people in my life.

I also learned that Death wasn’t really my enemy.

It was the face I gave my fears and terrors- now I don’t jump from every shadow that falls my way. Now I can see them for what they are and deal with them.

So I can safely now say I learned  a lot from The Grim Reaper and that  he was one of the  teachers in my life that I can look back on and say, ” Wow, did I learn a lot from that one! ”

The specifics  beyond what I mentioned here are between me and my friend in Black. But. I’ll let you in on a secret- the other parts of those specifics are in what I write and in every single laugh  and giggle and  dream  I have.

Daily Addiction Prompt: Cope