Conscience

"Hello."

Tens of thousands of feet each day. Shiny leather, gleaming buttons, zippers that don't ever stick. Shoes don't look you in the eye, but past you, like they have somewhere more important to be. You don't just take a joyride on someone's foot, you know. Shoes like that, you're going places.

"Good day, sir. How are you doing?"

There's a buzz in the air, like someone knocked a pot of coffee over and it spilled, down into the atmosphere with no umbrellas to catch it. The sky was dark and spotted with clouds, yet somehow, it wasn't raining.

"Morning. Funny weather we've been having, huh?"

Ringtones blur into a haze of pleasant chaos, and it's cold out. You can see the breaths of people passing, and not just the smokers. Suspended in the air like little cauliflower ghosts, they wave their little foggy tails in parting before they disappear.

"Hello. Hi. Hello."

I waved back once, but everyone looked at me like I had sprouted another nose. Maybe I was going insane, talking to objects that only seemed to exist for a few split seconds until they, too, were swept away by the economic demand on Wall Street's sidewalk.

"Ciao. Bonjour. Aloha, ma'am."

When I talk to people, they look at me like I'm crazy, too. Whenever I open my mouth, the little frown lines on someone's brow make me want to close it forever and swallow my tongue, locking it up in the safe that is my stomach and throwing away the key forever.

"Hello there. Good day."

Nobody really feels guilty, overlooking me like a fly on the wall. Just another stranger, right? I'll probably be the guy behind the counter when you swipe your MetroCard home, or the guy walking his dog in front of your apartment near the park, or the guy who asks you for a stick of gum, because he has a date tonight and doesn't want to scare her away.

"Hi. How are you? I'm fine, thanks for asking."

They don't ask. They'll never see me again, after the subway or the sidewalk or the corner store. I'm a face, and I blend into the crowd, like someone smudged their fingertip across the chalky mass of New York, blurring the lines together until no one is recognizable anymore.

"Good day. Good morning. Good afternoon, miss."

I say hello to everyone that passes me, and make deals with myself, to try to talk me out of what I'm going to do. If anyone says hello back, if anyone nods back, if anyone gives the slightest hint of a smile, I won't do it. I won't be the guy on the news who went on a trigger-happy rampage through a high school. I won't be the guy on the wanted posters hanging in the police department window. I won't be the guy who hung himself from his living room rafter with the only shirt he owns.

"Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello."

If anyone pays attention to me at all.

"Hello?"

---

Just don't sweat it

Hope you regret it

When your elevator takes you there.

Look up, honey

It's raining money

And people are starting to stare.

Hold my old boots

While I dig up the roots

And your hands remain unsoiled.

Face facts, baby

Possibly, maybe,

In guilt you will be boiled.

Skeptic

Put your two cents in
Kindling for the fire
That creeps along my spine.

Speak your mind
Let the words come out of your mouth
And seal mine shut.

Tell me a secret
Make my heart twist
Trying to make it count.

Erase me from your memory
But watch the ink bleed
You're permanent on my skin.

Rub it in, why don't you
It's a balancing act
You fall, I fall.

What do you think of me?
Who are you to judge?

Nameless

Is she new?

Hair, cut close around her face, streaked different shades of black, blue, and green. A new colour appeared every week or so, but nobody asked for an explanation. Eyes shaded with dark pencil, usually only half-open, slits of defiance. They were dark, murky brown, not unlike a swamp monster's footsteps in the sand. Long nose with a ruby stud in one nostril, mouth tweaked up slightly in a permanently crooked smirk.

She actually looks kind of scary.

Fine, she stood out. From the cookie-cutter straight-A, all-American cheerleaders that roamed the halls of the school. The ones that were so perky, their voices could make paint peel if you got them happy about something. Being mad all the time wouldn't be an endearing quality. 

Usually.

She wore her iPod earphones in class, artfully tucked behind her many piercings to disguise them from her teachers. People within a ten-foot radius could hear the pounding beats of The Clash or the soft strumming of Jack Johnson or the honey-smooth voice of Alicia Keys. It was a different song every day, and he often saw her subtly tapping along to the rhythm, her green-tipped fingernails scratching out a beat through her desktop.

Does she play anything? Guitar or something?

He saw her at her locker, discreetly slipping a pair of drumsticks into her sweatshirt pocket. He imagined her at home, headphones on, multicoloured hair flying, the room filling with loud music. Not angry pounding, nor annoying cymbals. Merely the percussion of what was on her mind.

I wish I could play something. All I play is baseball.

At lunch she didn't eat, just slipped a tablet under her tongue and disappeared into the crowd. 

Isn't she hungry?

She pushed past all the people in front of her, not being rude, just trying to get by.

Where is she going?

She made her way through the throng all the way to a table at the very back, where a bunch of his friends were sitting. Marsha, John, Patrick. She whispered something into Casey's ear and walked away.

I should really get Casey an anniversary present. Last time I forgot and she had a hissy fit. Maybe flowers or something like that; I'll make a car-

"Excuse me," she said. I looked up. It was the new girl.

That's odd... What could she possibly...

She leaned in until her swamp monster eyes were level with mine. I uncomfortably looked away. "I told your girlfriend you were staring at me," she said. The silver braces on her teeth glinted in the dim light. "Might want to go fix that."

Um, what?

"I have a name," she spat. "And it's most definitely not 'new girl'." He watched her walk away, keeping his eyes on the back of her arm. He squinted. Scars, all in a row. Like lines on a chalkboard.

Oh my God-

"Hello?" Casey's voice was in my ear as she roughly grabbed me by the elbow. "Quit checking out the freak!" He ignored her and craned his neck forward to see where the nameless girl had gone. He searched silently, but no head of black and green appeared in the crowd.

Is that why she won't talk to anybody?

It was like she'd never been there at all.

Confessions of Scrooge

My winter wonderland
Has melted, it's over
White Christmas has blackened
And spotted with clover

My sleigh ride is finished
It's all gone tonight
Jingle bells don't ring
Not within my sight

My heart has turned rotten
My blood has curdled
My mind running with thoughts
I haven't quite hurdled

Merry humbug to all
And thus, in a pinch
How easy it is
To become a Grinch!

***

Hahahahahaha. How uncharacteristic of me. I'm just kidding.
If you're a Grinch, you should be ashamed of yourself. It's CHRISTMAS! Live a little, people!

Not It

Great poker face

A devilish smile

That comes out

Once in a while

                 if you're lucky.
I am.

The whisper of a dove's wing

Floating on an eyelash

A butterfly's wing of hope

Thumping a heartbeat

                           if you happen to hear.

I do.

Laughter makes my heart grow small

With longing

With fear

I can crush it, destroy it

                                if I'm clever.

I'm not.

A perpetual game of tag

Running madly

Drifting sadly

You'll escape

                    if you can run fast enough.

I can't.

Forgetting the string

Of remembrance 'round your finger

You can get lost

In that grin

            if you don't try too hard.

I don't.

Roses are red

What comes next?

Pen to paper, cheek to cheek

Arm to hand to heart

                            if you want.

I want.

Do you?

Ho-Ho-Ho

Christmas is upon us, and all through the school
Not a student is stirring--what are we, fools?
For exams are approaching and boy, what stress
It's turning holiday into perilous mess

The presents need wrapping, and there's piles of snow
And multiple things that must be done "just so"
But there are textbooks and papers and essays, oh dear
Final projects and tests draw increasingly near

So tell me, oh Santa, what do we do?
It would help if we got a little cheer from you
Maybe you know algebra, or the square root of pi
Perhaps you're good at chemistry, come on, don't be shy!

If you would be so kind and help us today
We'll make sure we shovel to make room for your sleigh
Milk and cookies and carrots so crunchy
Will be there in case you get a case of the munchies

Please, Santa Claus, take the pain of our load
As high school students, we've got no place to go
I know we've been bad, but could you just let it slide?
We've got chocolates and tinsel to buy!

***

So... Whaddya say?

Head On, Heart Off

"Mechanical switches have moving parts, while solid state switches do not."

I just finished a Tech quiz. Don't mind me.

***

Head on
Heart off
Mind on
Soul off
Eyes down
Hands clasped
Don't talk to me. Don't talk to me.

Music on
Ears off
Spot on
Brush off
Lips parted
Gaze on the road.
Distract me. I dare you.

---

..."Charles-"

TRUE.