Invisible

One year ago….

Chimera Poetry

When you’re little you tie towels or a pillowcase around your neck and zoom all over with your arms out being superman. 

Or you throw your arm at people and they freeze in place because you’ve webbed them,

or yell out nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah…..batmaaaan!

The bad guys always get caught and go to jail 

the good guys always win

…..because they are the good guys

that’s why they have super powers.

Flying is the easiest one to play but at one time or another everyone wants to be invisible 

it would be so awesome

until you really are…

Like when you’re old

or fat

or your dad drinks and your mom works nights for minimum wage and you never have new clothes.

Or until you think they are coming after you, listening to you, tracking you and that aluminum foil is all that stands between you…

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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