Alone, in the Dark

Who are you in the dark?
Who are you when the lights turn out?
What do the shadows say about you?

We're all the same
Sultans and saints
Paupers and poor
We're all the same when the sun goes down

Who are you when you're alone?
Who are you when no one else is around?
What do the shadows say about you?

Your true self is revealed
When no other human is in sight
Everything you say, be it yours alone
Do you do things you cannot atone?

Strip Away the 21st Century

Often, when I look in a mirror, I see me
My own face reflected
Just the same as it is
No makeup, no fakes
All real

Then enters a woman, a Western Culture's pride
Long, flowing golden hair, luminous blue eyes
Skinny as a rail,  save her chest.
But when she beholds the mirror, her true self is reflected

A mirror shows all
Imperfections large and small
Mirrors don't lie, but your eyes do
It's the reflection that shows the true you

Her hair was reflected as a murky brown
Her eyes the same, dull color
A skinny, petite frame
From head to toe

So maybe this mirror was a little special
Reflecting only what should be there
You can run
You can hide
But you'll never escape
What's inside

Enter your run of the mill, muscular man
Tantalizing tan, bulging muscles
But that mirror, that shiny piece of glass
Shows what's behind
His body of brass

Weak, pale, and scrawny
Only made attractive by
Western conveniences
Spray tans and steroids
What has become of this world?

When you look in the mirror, what do you see?
Does the 21st Century look back at you?
Or do you see yourself, pure and free?

Live Again, Part 1

There was something in the air that night that that sent me out the door and into the darkness of the forest. I don't think I'll ever know what it was, but that was the night I finally believed in something.

I pulled on black skinny jeans that clung to my legs like wet rubber. I followed them with black socks and black basketball shoes with a reflective white  Nike swoosh on the side. A fitted black tee and a gray and black jacket completed my ensemble. I felt so alive, buzzing like an angel with broken wings.

I would say my heart ached, but it did not. Ever since I had been shattered, my heart had been hairline fractured with heavy black spider webs, marring its pulsing red beats until I couldn't feel anymore. I was stuck in a cold fortress of frostbitten ice. No warmth or fire, no companion, no noise. Cold, stoic existence. Outside the walls, each arctic brick built lie after lie and bound together with tears of blood, was a hurricane. This hurricane razed everything outside the walls with mental problems and issues. Silence was only heard on the stony island. The island was wrought in the pain of depression, the oppression of loneliness. No, happiness did not belong on the island. It belonged nowhere in my life.

I eased the door open. If my family caught me sneaking out, God knows what would happen to me. But something drove me into the forest that night. I only wish I knew exactly what did.

Ever since the world had gone to Hell and back, things had been different. Much different. It started with the Stock Market Crash of 2016. The global economy just...busted, I guess. I didn't really understand the crash. I was only 14, almost 15.

The first thing that happened was that gas prices skyrocketed. People on Wall Street panicked when not a single share of stock could be sold at all. What little sold did so for .001% of their original value. Basically, if you had bought a share for $100, you could only sell it for one penny. From what I understood, it was BAD. 

When people couldn’t afford gas, the United States went out of the frying pan, into the fire, and straight to the pits of Hell. My father was smart enough to borrow one of my uncle's horses in time for his truck to run out of gas. At least we could somewhat get places.

As food got more and more expensive, the community collapsed into hysterics. People frantically tried to sell their houses, but no one would buy. No one could. The banks were out of money. The government stepped in and gave the banks what they owed to the people, but the banks had no money to loan. People that could afford to buy houses cash used the money for other things, like food, medicine, and essential items.

The worst part, in my opinion, about the Crash was the riots. They were everywhere. The police simply weren't able to stop the floods of people howling in anger and outrage at the stores with no goods to sell, the banks with no money to loan, the doctors with no medicine to treat patients, and the gas stations with no fuel to pump. Right up until the electricity went out for good, every day, the news would tell another story of a police officer killed in the line of duty, protecting the businesses and banks from rioting vandals. Other days were sob stories of cancer stricken children that died slow, agonizing deaths because morphine was simply too expensive—and scarce—to use.

Money was the fabric that held our society together, the true ruler of Western Culture. But, after the Crash, you were lucky to find a penny on the street. If, of course, you survived leaving the safety of your home. 

After the electricity went out, about four months after the Crash, the guilds began to form. Some guilds were full of good people that simply wanted to live their lives and help others when they could. Most of the guilds, especially the top ones, however, were full of ex-convicts, malignant personalities, and all around bad people. The top guild in North Texas, where I lived, was called the Outlaws. They were originally a motorcycle gang, but, when the world went down, they quickly realized that putting a gun to people's heads was an excellently immoral way to procure food and supplies. The Outlaws often beat and robbed women and children that they caught alone. Whenever the Outlaws encountered a man, they killed him. 

Some would say that bad times bring out the worst in people, but I disagreed. I believed that the evil that was in people always showed. Bad times just make them express it in different ways. For instance, a person that bullied other people when the lights were turned on became a murderer when the lights turned off. 

In this entire hectic world, I still managed to fall victim to depression, anxiety, insomnia, and existential crisis. But, this new world that I lived in, this dystopia that rattled life as I knew it, gave me more of an outlet to be useful, to be needed. I could strike a hard bargain when my family ventured off our property to trade with our neighbors. I felt no immediate remorse if I had to hurt someone to protect my family. Before the Crash, I would have been called psychotic if I did any of the things that I did after the world as we knew it ended. But now, I held the proud title of 'useful'.

Now, as I stepped carefully out of the door, I wondered what would happen to my family if I died. It would benefit them, in a sardonic sense. It would be one less mouth to feed, one less back to clothe, one less health hazard. But it would hurt them, too. My parents would be distraught if they lost me. My family would have one less person that would help earn food, earn clothes, earn medicine. They would lose my strange awkwardness and humor that was too intelligent for them to understand. 

A sudden bolt of fear ripped through my entire body, making my fingers tingle. I could die tonight, sneaking out. I could die tonight, alone in the dark. I could die tonight.

I shook my head. There was a reason I needed to go into the forest. I felt like there was just something there that I needed to see. I carefully crept up to the fence around the property. My dogs were out, so I petted them and slipped over the fence. They wouldn't bark at me until I came back. If I came back. The pessimistic thought was just suddenly there. I couldn't control it. There was just a part of me that was convinced that I was going to die every time I put my foot on the ground.

I ran down the road, enjoying the feeling of air rushing passed my face. I ran at a steady pace all the way to the forest. I was glad that I had run Cross Country when the schools were still operational. Who knew that sports could help you in the apocalypse? When I got into the trees, I slowed to a walk. I loved the absolute darkness of the trees, only broken by white tiger stripes of light that glared through the branches. I walked all the way to a clearing that I hadn't known about before, and there, on the ground, laid a boy.

He was about a year or two older than myself, and sleeping peacefully on the ground. He had dirt and what looked like ash smeared on his face. I almost didn't recognize him, because his body had matured so much. In front of me slept someone I thought that I would never see again. I bent down and shook his shoulder. "Jaxon?"