Thursday, 26 April 2012

The Destruction of Small Ideas

"O where are you going?"

So tired and hurting. Writing things that are nonsensical and magic. They don't heal but are a form of temporary escape. They're never finished. Ideas cut short. The knife draws blood and panic sets in for the latter skin. A way out for a little while, or so. I've been going mad lately. These are memories.

Shall we play a game? Hide and seek in the garden. Weaving in and out of every rose bush, wary of the thorns. A small space to seem alone in, yet the cards will plague minds. Deal a future or two. Peering through the leaves, spying for an eyelash. Mind racing, you're eliminating the possibilities. Where to go? Where they'd be? Stopped in thought. The roses, so beautiful. Colours of all kind blossomed all around. Perfect. Then the rain came. It sprinkles on petals and sits on leaves. Makes them alive.

I wish I was a feather. To be so very delicate. Lighter than the idiom and able to drift away. Perfect enough to land on the water and float away. Elegantly so, as if planned. Innocent from all sins and worldly matters. Lucky enough to have seen such great sights and to have stayed so close to someone beautiful and warm. So tiny. To be a feather is so far from human. To be so far from that; my heart wishes this wholly.

Once wrote on pages about how loneliness must enjoy to ensnare the company of those feeling his call. A company so miserable. "Only to make us as sad will cure his misery". Cover you in oil, drench your soul. Burning to create a light, the kind that lets you see the flaws, not the beautiful dancers.

Nobody had to do this, they wanted to. Acceptance is a key. It's found but not used because we are so fickle. "I don't want to forget to love you."

Take a little sail boat and cast out the white sheets. They should be buffed by the wind and feel bruised, but alive. A feeling so understood it should be sad, but instead the cold wind makes us numb. The water swashes beneath the wood. Makes the surface sway and we concentrate on keeping balance. There's no room for anything else.

Black is everywhere. Some call it a classic design, others say it is mourning. They're buying it to wear to weddings and the staff don't understand. The bursts of colour, too bright, too bold. I'm so very tired of thinking of all things, it makes me too awake for sleep. I am no good for anything. My heart is black.

Not struggling. Coping. Not. I miss forever ago. When was happy? Afraid.

Don't let me in the water alone.

The little jigsaw is a mess and maybe some of the pieces are missing. Started on the edges but the corners don't add up add up. The hiding place is lost and your partner will never find you. The roses were completed because beauty is essential. We need to see something pretty if nothing else is working. Wish you so much happiness. 'Take Care' is not said enough, whilst 'Love' is frittered away. Crazy diamonds refract all the light in you and it's confusing to know which direction to follow in. The rainbow, a fake beauty.

Cure some misery to create another. Can't control today.

Sunday, 8 April 2012


"Oh, dear darling. No one believes you."

Everyone thinks it's someone else. That's not fair. How do you always get away with this? Over and over. You are a trick to be fooled by.

There was time spent together. It was spent not watching a clock, though that's a white lie. Not for the first time. When we did not know each other. Again a white lie, I never knew you.

There's many stains. They were a paint we made that coloured a picture in our minds. Carefree we let the residue drip from the soft brushes and on to our fingers. The tumbling drop rolls with an intent motion. Covering lines and creating roads. Places to travel. Used to escaping in the water as it removed those tracks for a while. The water so warm and silky, too inviting.

There are invisible scars you made. You were so sweet and she was falling into trust. You had this brilliant innocence which made it so evil when it turned out you shot with poisoned tips. A doll for your shelf. Picked up and used by a master. You said to that dolly that she was so lovely he couldn't help it, powerless before her. Little did she know your charm was a disguise. Placing your hands on her throat, tender till the marks formed. You knew it well. A plan of misconception. But who was left missing you?

Mass lack of control again and I'm almost afraid to be in the water alone.

A strange and hazy mist. An illusion of the road in front of you. It blinds you at the worse times and you swerve to avoid that tree. The one that anchored you in place and you thought you could trust. It grew in you. You. And so did you. Don't forget you, too. You broke me. I promised to love better but I forgot how to. So my heart is black, just like you said. Always right about everything.

Why are you miles away? It should be good. A way to keep away from your voice. The one I find hard to forget. The one I expect to hear on the phone. Telling me what's what and dictating the way I'm going to grovel the next day when I'm feeling worthless. A destructive force and focus to break strength. You did have impeccable timing.

Is this an end? Everything is so fragile.
It is coming and I am going nowhere.

I miss you, Cruelty.