It was a large piece of furniture. It was noticable from the door. The room had to be fully entered, after negotiating all of the visual stimuli wanting to be explored. The giant desk anchored near the furtherest wall. A shiny red apple placed off center of the massive desk. The Apple didn't seem small compared to the size of the desk. It was bigger than a real apple would be able to grow. The white cone with the word dunce written verticly in gray capital letters added size to the unnatural apple.  The museum exhibit featured a chalk board, chalk, and erasures. The arrogance transported through time encapsulated inside this replica of a time, and a place, now known as the past.

My mind finds the memories, recreates the sensations.  I remember a library as a place for discovery. I realized in everyday I could learn something new, something more. I also found familiar situations that seemed stuck on repeat. Like the woman at church that always sat still. Her face look painted like a doll. I couldn't tell how old she was but she sat with her parents.  I liked to think she was a giant walking doll. The perfect child, the perfect daughter any parent would choose, if having a family was about picking the perfect child.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

the world awaits your confession

Your thoughts are seeping out. Slowly dripping out like a salty tear. The cud of lies you chew for nourishment.  Oh look at the misery, the victim wins again. The winners circle, if you notice isn't complete, the arc. 


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

gloss and smear

You based a lie on a known truth. For what reason I doubt you know. The shift of events and how I ended up here is a blessing. Of course to the cultured eye, like yours, this is lost in the gloss and smear. What does it mean? It doesn't matter. 


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Broken thoughts

Having to sweep up those fragments. Those piles of words, and ideas mixed together can't be spoken coherently. The clutter can be seen and create reactions. A false reality expecting a natural reaction. The reaction graded to eventually present a restricted choice. The lack of surprise by the creators of these stumbling blocks.  The lack of reaction creates a reality of evil.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Learned yet?

My reaction fuels the misguided dictates of persons deluded.  Knowing there is no ability to formulate a question. That fact is due to never having to ask. The highest expectation for any miniscule need. For the hand when extended is accustomed to being able to grab anything desired. It's plain to see from the point I am making why I remain silent.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

to be understood as to...

Making a statement, the words float around some are grabbed out of the air and minced. Some are set on fire. Some get tossed back and explode. Some get dropped in boiling water until softened.  Some like a drop of poison cause serious consequences. Words that cause confusion. Do you think it is because of the intent of the speaker. Or is it because the listener is a miserable human looking to cause trouble? When The listener tries to clarify and is met with resistance and...

Again I tried to clarify the confusing words and actions. I was met with resistance and even the statement " well if you don't believe me". I finally said "okay I get it now, I'm not supposed to clarify things." I brought another topic and it was quickly turned into the same topic but featuring another person. The other person starts to decide whether it applies to them and the topic I began is taken from me given to someone else and ended within less then 45 seconds. I was asked directly at the beginning of this conversation if I had made contact to a third party, who had contacted me. The third party reached out for me to clarify a topic that would singularly benefit one person. Also I've been told repeatly by this person they don't want to be involved in any of my dealings. I've also been told that my course of actions to resolve a situation was foolish and I was deceived. Now consider this the reality created by one person who is used to believing their understanding is all encompassing. It is reinforced by a group of other (deep thinkers) who agree on everything within their known universe.  If I knock on their door of reality and try to introduce myself will I be welcomed? Will the door be slammed on me like an unwanted solicitor? Will again my topic be passed on to another and scattered in the cardinal directions? If I do nothing with this awareness is it because I have thoroughly detached myself from feelings? If intent will make sure the message remains intact, but I'm not a worthy messenger, is that moment wasted.

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

That distance

When nonverbal communication is the only way you communicate, there isn't an actual relationship forming. Your innards are safe while your head tells you otherwise. The intentions are to take while the desires are to steal. Squander the millions of moments to glow.  You glow instead.  Burning bright, your arm is just not long enough to reach the distant. The distance created to pretend.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

She mumbles

I asked her "Do you remember that day way back when"? She said she didn't remember. In that answer, my own memory was erased. I didn't remember her. I was sitting next to a stranger. I walked away and never looked back. Now here you come saying a name with the expectation I'm supposed to have a sentimental reunion with someone I don't know. I realize this isn't a concept you can easily accept. She mumbles and that is enough for you.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

nice N.I.C.E.

No I Can't Explain


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Who keeps the dust and cobwebs off the Corinthian columns?

It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The moment escaped unchallenged.  An unspoken conversation ended, like a door slammed shut on a solicitor, a door to door salesman from another dimension. Trying to sell the good life for a soul. It would seem a temptation so great would've brought a moment of relief.  Confusion unanswered questions and assumption, the figure like a shadow, is created by blocked light. The conversation created by information and choices, open ended seeking resolve. Focusing on a moment, a choice needed now or never.  That moment gone, a memory created from nothing. An imaginary situation set at the boundary of sanity. Any attempt to clarify included the risk of ridicule.  It is known to some as welcoming chaos.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Enter here

The gate made a distinct sound when it was carelessly opened. Most visitors approached in the same manner.  If timed the front door would open within a few minutes. It had become common enough it created an expectation.  There would have been plenty of reason for that cadence to be broken. No indications there was anything to be concerned about. The figure that entered when the door opened didn't immediately create fear. Trying to process what was standing there, the intial assumption it was human.  The moments slowed as the thoughts sped up.  Terror that doesn't seize and overwhelm the senses allows thoughts to process as normal. The high rate of decision making is effortless. Numerous thoughts and emotions processing simultaneously it is hard to comprehend how beautifully marvelous the human mind functions.  Continuing to govern bodily functions. Never formulating the question what am I looking at? Disbelief when seeing an apparition in that moment doesn't inspire awe. Trying to convince oneself this isn't real, this isn't happening. Definitely not human. If stepping through the threshold was its only goal, it should vanish at any moment. No sound was being created. Looking very much alive, in the same way a costume creates a character. The visual effect requests the mind to play along. Imposing thoughts, judgements, forcing the viewer to take part.  Forcing the viewer to make choices. To believe, or disbelieve. To enter  the fantastical. The invitation to step toward possibility, or remain in the realm where lies justify success.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

contrivance

I repeated myself because I didn't think you heard me. It didn't take long to realize your elevated expectations.  I answered all your inquiries, even though they seemed strange. I knew you would wilt if exposed to truth, so there were no questions as to your intentions. I watched your reality play out. Again you dismissed my reaction. Now I'm expected to relate to you. After you've shifted the topic three times away from the original conversation.  You wave the wand of approval to anyone who reacts to your emotional contrivances.  Still you wait for me to react to such nonsense. 


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

That's Different

Wishing things were different. It turns out the difference is the problem. When I see you acting different, I know you understand, but when it comes to me there is the difference again. You know I can see the difference, and that makes me different. You think I understand your game. I can't. I don't know what you are thinking. I only notice a difference toward me.  If this could be different, there would be no difference. My odd quirks wouldn't hold you fascinated. You would act like you are being paid. Trying to act like you aren't being paid.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Let's play tag like the person who is (it) is going to kill you.
You shouldn't speak that idea into reality. It can cause it to happen.
Your old world superstitions take the fun out of everything.
Fun? What's fun about being murdered?
No one's getting murdered.
You want to create an adrenalin rush to have fun pretending like you could be murdered.  You are trying to tap into primal fear, and I'm old world?


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Behavior modification

Do you remember you told them I was crazy.  Not the zany have a good time type, but the straight jacket, shock treatment, padded cell definition.  I took it literally.  You became upset when you realized I wasn't going to talk to you anymore. You pretended to cry and told them I was your friend and you missed me.  Now you drive by my house monitoring how I let me weeds grow.  The rabbits, the birds, lizards, and cats walk through my yard.  I see grasshoppers, crickets, and bees, and spiders. I was too loud, or was it too early?  What you choose to judge is a moving target.  Unwritten rules known only by you. Enough time has gone by and you want to call me crazy again.  The pattern is yours, has nothing to do with my sanity.



It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The revolving door

I never understood that joke the reason it's hard to get through a revolving door when you have a spear through your head.  I never thought of your situation because I didn't care. I didn't need to care. You can talk like you acted for a higher spiritual purpose.  You tried to change things you knew nothing about.  I remember your antagonistic voice. Your chest pushed out. You were telling people you didn't know, they had stupid opinions. You called them ignorant.  Years later the hypocrisy,  the end justify the means. You created a stage for crime. The human condition, uncredited actors.  Your buddy drove around with a gun in his car. I don't know why he needed it. I wouldn't have known about the gun, but he pointed it at me and told me to pull my top up. I didn't know why a big guy needed to protect himself from a set of boobies.  That was your friend group. The revolving door of nobodies, anybody's.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Social construct

Remember that house you lived in back in 1982. You had a party, a fight broke out. I got a ride home from a guy.  We stopped at the convenience store. He stole a bottle of alcohol. I assume he was a friend of yours. No concern for the rule of law. I didn't realize there was a type. The type of person that enjoys stealing. It must be conveyed by a look in the eyes. I wasn't aware of the unspoken language of the criminal mind. My face must have conveyed confusion, or disapproval. He took the bottle back inside the store, and changed his mind. Maybe it was his choice and had nothing to do with me at all.  He dropped me off and left never saw him again.  That night was the first time I heard your name. I wouldn't see it again for 32 years.  The newspaper explaining what life choices you had made.  I could only assume I understood. Why would strange encounters suddenly make sense.  I would call you a criminal, but the newspaper was creating an image of an upright citizen living the American dream.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

The price

She picked out several onions and set them in the scale.  Not because she wanted to know their weight. It was a place to keep them as she finished her selection.  A bag of carrots, and a head of cabbage. No particular meal was being planned.  Unaware she was being watched she continued to the register.  The line was short, but the basket loaded full.  Waiting wasn't a big deal, a chance to collect thoughts or daydream. It felt like wind, and she tasted dust. She heard a growl. Not an animal noise but the sound made in a human throat.  She looked around to determine who was making the strange vocalization.  No one was nearby.  Her hands began to cramp holding the vegetables.  They began to feel heavy.  If she could set them down somewhere for a moment. Instead she cradled them on her arms like carrying a baby.  Little vegetable babies.  Her mind wandering: a head of cabbage, she thought how strange it's called a head.  Looking down at her vegetable babies she thought about chopping them into pieces. Noticing the taste of dirt again, she ended her morbid chain of thoughts.  She was able to set her produce on the conveyor belt and pay.



It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Don't be afraid, of lies, and the giving of gifts.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96

Heard the sound of the pin drop

A squall moved through last night.  The wind whistled that's what woke me up. The sound of rain was like pins hitting the metal roof.  The wind usually slams the metal roof but I didn't hear the usual clanking.  I figured the wind was blowing straight down. Outside the rain drops looked like a mist.


It's not what you think it's what you believe.  Patricia '96