What do you see in the mirror when you first wake up in the morning? Torrey Kurtzner sees a train wreck. The only catch is, it never departs.

About the Artist:  Torrey Kurtzner (Undeclared, Class of 2018) writes mostly satirical humor pieces, inspired throughout his life by television shows like The Simpsons, Seinfeld and It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.  In the future he would love to write comedic screenplays for movies, sketches or television shows.  One of his biggest dreams is to both write and adapt a sketch for Saturday Night Live (SNL).

Warning: This piece contains explicit content (profanity) and may not be suitable for all audiences.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Bad Face Vibes

Torrey Kurtzner

Grueling over the mirror,

I fight with the reflection.

Why can’t I get it right?

I look at the clock outside my workshop.

Time is disintegrating.

Somewhere, a deadline screams importance,

But perfection is a necessity.

The deadline can wait;

Perfection can’t.

Thick and coarse,

Heavy and flat.

The teeth of the comb promised peace,

But the beast wouldn’t surrender.

I sift my fingers through it,

And they immediately become entangled.

It’s a trap!

Mayday! Mayday!

I ponder my tools.

“More gel should do the trick.”

It never does.

I travel south.

Two caterpillars reside above my eyes.

They have minds of their own.

One instigates while the other procrastinates.

Teamwork isn’t their strongest suit.

If I were mute,

My voice would project through their dances.

I do my best to maintain them,

But they always come back with a vengeance.

Once I went out shopping with them.

They hadn’t been burned in weeks.

A small child mistook me for an owl,

Surname ‘Mr.’

The child riddled me this:

“Mr. Owl, how many licks to the center of a Tootsie pop?”

I had no answer.

The child seemed disappointed.

That made two of us.

Traveling further south, I come to a halt.

I look both east and west.

My canvas is missing some paint.

Because of this,

I can’t grow a proper landscape.

I’d like to grow one to proudly show.

Like that of a rug, it could really

“Tie the face together, man.”

But I don’t have one to show,

So I don’t let it grow.

Finally I come across the train wreck.

I’m afraid to take a look inside.

I do my best to show emotion without

Having to show my pearls.

Although, calling them ‘pearls’ would be a stretch.

They’re kind of white,

But also,

Kind of not white.

I clean them vigorously,

But they always remain stained.

I guess it’s like my mother once told me as a child:

“Some stains just aren’t meant to be removed.”

My whole face is a stain I can’t remove.

I can polish it,

Extract from it,

Add to it,

But it will never truly change;

Only remain the same.

If for some miracle I pull off the impossible,

It’s merely a temporary success

That only I will ever know about…

Not that I mind all that much.

Some people have it worse.

But hey, I can bitch can’t I?

Copyright © Torrey Kurtzner 2016.  All Rights Reserved.