I am Your Nightmare…Radio Edit

I am your nightmare.

That monster that will never cease.

The reminder that life

is only fragile

if you lack scar tissue.

I am a waking nightmare

trapped in a body

that can never express

fear or sorrow.

I am a fearsome beast.

A dragon guised as a butterfly.

I snarl with laughter.

I stalk with a skip.

I flash my fangs in a smile.

I am your nightmare.

The personification of

political correctness,

but only out of occupational obligation.

Which of course comes with

self-loathing.

For what beast is really complete

without self-loathing?

To never freely say

or do what I want,

because this monster

dreads ramifications.

This monster that has

forbidden herself

to show how ugly she feels inside,

only wanting others to see

what they want to see,

and feel good about themselves.

This monster cannot

smash with reckless abandon

as humans can.

Humans who’s opinion,

so inflated by

self-righteousness

that it should pop

like a cheap party balloon,

unfortunately are the opinions

that stick to the mind

like a crusty lollypop stick,

but with the weight

of an naval destroyer.

So I guess it’s really

the humans that should

worry you.

Always pushing the monsters

deeper in the forest.

What happened to the days

when monsters were accepted

and appreciated?

Oh well, as the humans say,

‘That’s life.’

I’ll simply endure,

as always.

Growing thicker scars

as I try and assure myself

that political correctness,

and the general anxiety

for selfish progress

that is the human condition,

haven’t murdered

the essence of art.

Breathe.

That’s what I always

tell myself when humans

get me down.

They are just humans,

and I am but a monster.

Each of us imperfect

in our way.

The only thing to do

is to endeavor to not

roast anyone with my breath.

No promises.

I am a smiling dragon after all.

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Scars

Walking by evergreen trees this time of year is always a pleasure for me. Each branch has new growth that shows itself off by being neon green. I wish humans could show growth like evergreen trees.

Not our physical growth of course, because that would make pubescent boys going through growth spurts even more self conscience…and over eaters luminescent.

I’m talking about our emotional and spiritual growth. How affirming would it be to have neon colors coming out of our hearts, heads, or physical scars? It would be so encouraging to be able to see that time has not only helped you heal, but put perfumed fertilizer in your soul and helped you spurt up spiritually. You could see people that need help, or that could help you, and learn how to spread love and joy around the whole world!

You may be thinking that after posting this I am going to weave daisies in my hair and go frolic in a valley of tall grass. Well you would be wrong…it’s raining and I get hay fever, not to mention I shaved my head a few days ago at a St. Baldrick’s children cancer research fundraiser, so unless those daisies have velcro on them, they’re not sticking in my hair! I’m just a cockeyed optimist (You are welcome for that song being stuck in your head).

It makes sense that humans don’t have bright physical tags that show off internal growth. Trees don’t have words to tell their stories, and they don’t have souls. We have both.

To tell the truth, if spiritual growth shone through physical scars, then the past few years my legs would’ve looked like they were strung up with tacky Christmas lights. The more I think about it, the more I see that scars, be they visible or invisible, are what show our growth.

Because in my opinion, scars are much like shattered glass on the shoulder of a freeway. The event that caused them was traumatic, to say the least, but when loving wisdom shines its light over them they glisten and reflect that light back on you. Makes you realize that every scar is gorgeous, and that you wouldn’t be you without them.