He’s talking to me about the cannabis, its strains, effects, origins, flavors, cost, the whole bit, as I flick my cigarette and watch the elegant curls of smoke glide past my face and lace up into the lush spring afternoon air.
The trees are full-on canopies of thick green now, and everything that can burst into silky bloom has all but done so. I watch as a little bird falls from its nest in a bush and lands, feeble and disoriented, into the smooth stones below. The wings spread but it cannot take flight. As I wonder if I should intervene, the baby bird curls up into a ball a third of its size and sleeps, just like that, breathing super fast. Panic? Trauma? Protection? Drama. Life kissing death, feathers and beak and sunlight bobbing beneath a wide blue sky it may or may never get to see.
I sip my coffee and let be what will be. Humans are always inserting themselves where we do not belong. I don’t need their expectations and I don’t need their delusions. I am not all sugar and soft pink folds. Life is shit sometimes and I can be hard as rock when I want to be. You can ball up and sleep and they will think its sweet. You can curl up and die and they will continue to dump on you all their reasons why you had it coming but couldn’t see it in time.
Everybody always knows, don’t they.
It’s too hot for spring, which pisses me right off because I don’t want summer. Not yet. I hate the heat especially at the peak of midday, it’s obnoxious the way it heaves you around, wrings you out with sweat and all that. All I ever wear is black, maybe that doesn’t help. I trace the outline of the angel wing tattoo on my left arm with the ring finger on my right and nearly burn myself by accident. I should really quit. I should really pay attention.
There are little insects all around on the concrete, little punky ants racing around carrying crumbs from some biscuit or cookie someone left on the ground. They are so tiny that the bits of crumb look like monster size boulders on top of their minuscule beady black heads. They are so tightly marching together they look like many bodies inside of one body. I can’t tell if they are jittery because they are starving or because they are just busy.
I fight the hunger in me most days, beat it back with caffeine or nicotine or whatever else. Until the shaking gets too much and my heart flutters against my chest. Have you ever read the confessional poets? No, I mean the great ones? The ones who do not give a fuck about spitting out the real shit that needs to be said? Or screamed or shrieked or moaned or bled onto paper?
It’s tough to do that kind of thing. There is an art to it. To spilling your guts and coming off mighty instead of pathetic.
I tell him I want to try the pink moon variety. I want to be sedated as I sniff the calming scents of citrus, clove, and lavender, and feel like I’m gliding into a nothingness which makes the pricking stop.
Pricking?
Yeah, you know. The way the pins and needles of the day take stabs at you non-stop like life is daring you to give it all up but you keep shoving back against it the best way you know how. It hurts and it’s exhausting. And pushing back against the quills of the thing only makes it worse.
Allison Marie Conway 
It’s been a pricking week for me😔😔!
But lovely piece though❤️
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I feel you, my dear. ♥️ Thank you ever so much. ♥️🙏🏻🕊
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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Whoa! This! What a fucking rush reading this was! Is!!! Very much still is! To just let go and scream “Look, ma, no hands!” and then dive down on a supersonic verbal roller-coaster that revives the heart and the soul on this gloomy, heavy rain filed day. Goosebumps are still standing tall in anticipation of more. The sheer memory of reading this mere seconds ago are pumping what appears to be an endless river of adrenaline. Seriously, I think if I tried I could actually fly right now. Especially if I stood on a bridge, a building or a mountain high enough. Oh and if I had a wingsuit on. Meaning – I’d forget about my fears and anxieties and let go. Hey! Maybe that is how I will actually get to do it one day. Bring sheets of your dazzling prose and read them moments before I jump. Fuck, I love that idea. I really do. Wilderness, here i come, here I go!
Also, it’s fascinating to realize that the parts of this piece that are the most somber and raw are actually those that fuel the resurrection of the spirit the most… ♥️ ♥️ ♥️
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I literally could not love this comment more. I am so beyond grateful to know this piece affected you so fully and deeply, thank you so much! ❤ Also the thought of you reading my prose before something like hang gliding or sky diving or looking out from the tallest mountain makes my whole heart race – that, and you, are so beautiful. ❤ ❤ ❤
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Dear Allison, if only you could imagine how powerful your ability is to infuse enriched color into life. It’s a true treasure that continues to give. Especially on days that paint the world as nothing more than a clusterfuck of mundane and pretend. It’s beautiful to be reminded that raw honesty, while a lot of times painful as well, is still the best way to vibrate in life. You spoke of confessional poets and praised their courage to not give a fuck about anything that would deter them from being real and brutally honest…. well, whether you realize this or not you are up their with them too. The great ones. you are one of those giants. How fucking fortunate are we that you are existing now and that walk you actually not only walk among us but also share your universe with such a mesmerizing passion that one can easily forget that it’s actually potent hurt and raw pain that you (sometimes – not always) share. Thank you for being you, the beautiful and oh so full of full-blooded courage you! ❤ ❤ ❤
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You are amazing and you made me cry with these words. Thank you so much, Danijel. It heartens me so much to hear that you feel all of this, it gives me faith that I am doing something that brings life into the places where the regular shit hurts so bad. Thank you for being here, I really am so grateful. ❤ ❤ ❤
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You are without a doubt resurrecting life in places that have been abused and misused to a point of oblivion. You give them a breath of fresh air, you empower them, you show them that even in the most ghastly of darkness a light can not only survive but also coexist with its pitch black counterpart. You so beautifully demonstrate that one cannot truly exist without the other. Thank you for showing how to kick ass even when shit hurts bad af. For real. ❤️❤️❤️
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You humble me. For real. xo
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😊❤️
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