Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
You can also find Monica's writing here:
« You Say You Want A Revelation... Well, You Know... | Main | Attack Of The 6 Foot Tall Stripper »

The TurnAway

Where am I? It's quiet here. Dark too.

We call it The Turnaway. It's were I go when The Surge can't find me. Where I hide when I don't want to be found. My walk through the valley of the shadow and I fear not death for it would be a welcome respite from solitary confinement with the white noise screaming inside my head.

I recede inside myself, a frightened turtle accordianing into the hard exterior left behind. Flat, expressionless eyes peering from my shell. My armor. My Tough Girl self.

I see the world dispassionately, through the wrong end of unfocused binoculars. I stand on the building's ledge watching the ants marching. Endlessly marching. Am I devoid of emotion or is it them? Am I them? Beaten down.

Come now. Find me. I've lost my way again. You know where to look. I am in The Turnaway.

My heart is a padlock
and I've misplaced the key
I'm a jar with a heavy lid
but I ain't your pop quiz kid

Pick the lock, twist my top
shake me, rape me, hate me
You'll go crazy
but you won't get what you need
The Turnaway is my creed

Fighting is in my blood
I've got scarred palms to prove
I'm not an open book
and I ain't your homework

Pick the lock, twist my top
you won't get what you need
The Turnaway is my creed

Shake me, rape me
in the end you'll hate me
But you won't get what you need
The Turnaway
It's my creed