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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #605
`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
888 888 888 888 888 "Driving to The Pacific
888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8 and Jumping In"
888 888 888 888 888 "
888 888 `88b d88' 888 o by Tasha [5/6/99]
o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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the bitter friction of a plastic-sole mall store sandal against 3rd
world cement, and it's setting the stage for whatever a stage can be set
for. my legs are growing cold and stiff as i slowly become one with the
rocks and pebble beneath my feet. granite replaces skin, tar replaces
blood. screaming, fighting and pushing...into me, because i'm a statue
now. statues don't deserve an "excuse me" or "sorry," and to avoid them
would be unthinkable. there're all these kids screaming about something,
something i don't understand, so i go inside.
i conventiently place myself near the wall, on an olive colored
chair from the 80s. i think i used to sit on these during elementary
school assemblies. head in hands, i'm staring at this orange floor and
nothing's interesting me. then i notice this piece of paper. plane white
and glowing under the swirl swirl swirl of florescent and black purple
night. dejected and crumpled, braving feet and soles. and the paper is
everything, existing into eternity in its unwanted stage. my whole world
on something to be thrown away, and i secretly guard it with my puils
against the feet of kids not watching what is most important. i watch and
watch, praying each time one foot gets near, and letting my air escape
after minutes of holding it whilst my world was faced with plastic and
leather. and suddenly a pair of jeans and a tank top destroy everything i
held valuable for that moment in time.
the green shirt sitting next to me has vodka in his coffee. i can
smell it in his breath as he stares somewhere off into the distance of four
walls. i can feel the alcohol burning through my pale skin as he sweats
onto my wrist, and i'm too something to care or move. and it just gets
worse as his green skin cotton brushes against my skinless shoulder and i
want to scream in pain because it's a borderline loving, gentle carress.
pound pound pound pound pound pound pound high school band taking
stage and everyone screaming louder, playing louder, stomping louder,
waving louder, fucking louder. the bass is booming somewhere in the lobes
of my brain. boom boom boom.
he skipped his graduation and got in his car instead. somewhere
from grand rapids michigan to the west coast in a beat up truck with a
watermelon in back. he didn't know where he was going, but he drove
anyway. drove and drove, halfway across the country, finally stopping in
front of the brooding pacific. sanity losing all control, he ripped his
clothes off and jumped in the freezing water, splashing and screaming in
his freedom and fight against nature as he created waves himself. fight
against everything. law. gravity.
and that's life. driving to the pacific and jumping in. or maybe
just being some piece of paper on a floor, but never a statue in the
parking lot.
i feel naked beneath this green shirt as the boy in front of me
stares daggers into my breasts. i want to turn and walk away, but all i
can do is stare equally as sharp daggers back at him and wonder if his dark
skin and my light skin were to mingle and mesh, what would i disgrace?
family? society? whatever.
but the green shirt still has vodka in his coffee.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #605 - WRITTEN BY: TASHA - 5/6/99 ]