Friday, 25 November 2011

Face to Face on High Places

Rushing so frequently by and by - the people pass and notice nothing. No stopping in a crowd to spot a worried grimace or glittering tear forming in the corner of an eye. But those who only stop for beauty make sure it is not tragic first. They don't realise what they miss out on - though it isn't truly missing when it is choosing. This blank acceptance within society is a pillar block to towering democracy.

Learn to live with a kind girl. Who gets up out of bed, makes the tea and sits quietly with books. She remembers what to take to work and is considerate of what the day may need. Reliable and dependable, once too known as organised. Knowing her way around the house is second nature. Every nook and cranny has something hidden and somehow she knows what is in every single one. In study she could be absorbed, reciting all the minute details of her cases. This girl likes to fill the house with delicious scents and warmth, so it is welcoming should someone stop by. Fill conversation with talk of theories - even the most bizarre and crazy. She'll paint everything with colour, even if it is only available with black and white. Kindness is less expectant than most realise. Sometimes all this girl wants is to go out on the town. Curl up with the cat in the evening and enjoy every minute. It's hard to tell when she's quiet what she feels, without realising her face is grey. Turn a light on too quick and she'll sneeze - promise! She will repair your clothes and wounds without batting an eyelash. This girl wants to know everything about the geography of the world. Love given freely and laughter carelessly frittered away in the air, just like the glitter that seems to fill every room in the house (and cover her face). Guilt follows her. She will sacrifice herself for anything and all, even to give into a darkness she knows is evil. Which she believes can make her so very weak. She finds it hard telling others if she's having a bad day. This girl won't believe things to be firmly true unless you tell her without a flicker of doubt, she can't deny honesty. She prefers to live in another reality. If this girl had it her way she'd wish to have never tasted such bitterness, but more so wish that on all others. This girl would make you believe you knew everything about her, then leave you completely unsure.

She is so very deeply tired.

Those to lift and hold her so, take her to soft surroundings and lay her down gently. Wager that she shouldn't wish to wake from a tragic slumber that left her so whole. She thanks them with her heart always, and will try to tell them when possible.

This girl doesn't want to dissolve in the rain, though it pours and makes it hard for her to make sense of direction.

She wants to face the world again. Maybe.

Sunday, 20 November 2011

While Mortals Sleep

Delicately we carve out the details on how we wish to shape our lives. We're taking these tiny steps, one after another. Looking up slowly and turning away when we catch the eye of the smile greeting your own weary stare. Radiance is still too much to bare. You can always laugh with a hollow tune. There will forever be rain on the horizon because drought leads to pain. The cracks in the skin of the earth will be slowly healed, given the chance. Throw the water on too quickly, watch the freeze-thaw set in and sending you back to room 101. Does this mean we are trying? Working for something more than we ever dreamt the darkness would deliver. Up in the clouds, not caring for the dangers the sun presents (even though we are secretly willing to burn). I remember not to question the journey of others.

I heard there was this ideal, something to do with staying and never leaving. But we are only on borrowed time - all the doctors know that. You can see it in their eyes. Getting so tiresome of explaining the meaning of feelings so you can diagnose with paper and pen.
What if the blade slips and we cut out the good parts without meaning to? Does that make us foolish or simply human? If you do not recall them as 'good' then surely you have missed nothing at all.

Let's dance amongst the stars, they'll be distant at first but as you welcome them in they grow ever closer.

"O, thou art fairer than the evening's air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars,
Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter,
When he'd appear'd to hapless Semele,
More lovely than the monarch of the sky
In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms,
And none but thou shalt be my paramour"

Can you hold my hand, just not too tightly?
Remain on your mind.
Take something old and make it incredibly relevant.
It has hypophrenia written all over, and with so memory does improve greatly.
Would you like to know a secret?

Darling, you.

Thursday, 10 November 2011


Wanting a hole to form in the middle of the ground by my feet and swallow me whole. That way it doesn't have to burn away in my mind. It's a slow process, it slowly curls and expands, like when paper burns in the harth. You give in but not completely, because of the fear.

Longing that this would all end tonight. Gently and soundly, to drown so eloquently by letting the water creep in and take hold. It is warm to the skin over the bones, paint it red.

Crossing the vast skies and forests in a mind that sets them alight in passing. All behind is burnt to the very core. There is no rebirth here. I can not cross oceans now, they have dried up. All else seems to fall away.

Sat on the floor, it started out by staring at the sky but now have been transported somewhere totally different and the surface has disappeared from beneath you. Literal voice is lost but screaming, screaming, screaming echos mindfully. Can you find me here? Even in silence?

If only you could see me inside.
Only striving to be so very 'lovely'.
What have I done now?

Sunday, 6 November 2011

Cease to Begin

Watching a screen that plays on the flat surface in the corner of the room.
Tilt your head and the line becomes horizontal.
The horizon is in no mind but has weight heavily rested on the surface meeting the sea.
Friends they are, but will the strength stand the test of time under stranger's pressures?
The weight waits for no one, but everyone else stands still with anticipation.
Eyes watchful, glowing and searching.

Sometimes it is time to get away, far away.
Staying right where you are.
(Tucked under the covers)
(Hidden in the park)
(Sat in the window bay)
(Walking through falling leaves)
(Sip in the dim glow of emerald lamps with golden lace)
Sometimes you want it alone or together.
Sometimes is only sometimes.

Fireworks were my muse.
Even when the rain poured you could see their flare and colour.
Magic in darkness, illuminations also known as 'revolution'.
Favourite eve.

Wheezy and bedraggled.
Boxes marked for this and that.
Bottles for sleeping.

Hazy nights spent in a fever.
"File this, answer that."
Waterfalls in the night and just needing to be held down.
Silent and silver, sliding so smoothly.
Never understand anything.

And the screen repeats:
(Oh babe, I will always be waiting on you.)
(Oh babe, I will always be waiting on you.)
(Oh babe, I will always be waiting on you.)