In The Abstract

Prompt Reaction # 7

Dump the trash bin on the floor, pull on your rubber gloves, and start hunting for the truth that only your throwaways know.

Down in the dark caverns of polystyrene and plastic, there are many little secrets, all tucked conveniently between wastepaper and remnants of stale potato chips. There's a lie or two, thrown in the hands of an innocent child, to play checkers or cards, no scissors, no glue. There's an insult, a threat, to a girl I once knew, whose mother is mine, and whose father is not, a half-family, half-harmless, half-hearted dislike. In the far, far corner are a few crumbs of resentment, thrown in the cradle of the innocent child, and to the mother who gave her affection I never had. A drop of blood, pooling from past sorrows and blades, lies between a few pieces of molded popcorn, and threatens to contaminate the untold. Here lies a sticky mass of confusion, tangled in mats of hair and chewing gum, laced with strange thoughts and the occasional false smile, often tainted with a salty tear behind the curtains. Stuck to the very bottom is my self-esteem. Fragments of a pretty reflection taped together pathetically with a bit of a kiss, and maybe a compliment or two from someone who really didn't care. And last but not least, there is my sanity, a toxic chemical placed in a plastic bag, along with rubber gloves, a q-tip, and evaporated bits of rubbing alcohol. All of these dangerous bits of garbage, thrown into a compacter and smushed to bits, leaving me with nothing but... guilt.

posted by Kasey @ 11/02/2005 11:11:00 AM