Wednesday, 21 November 2012

Everything All The Time

Ice chains can melt in the sun. Time is misunderstood. Stars are under an awful lot of pressure. Weak but strong balances between phsyical and mental. Silence is often feared, wrongly. Faces misconstrude. Rainbows have too many hopes pinned on them. Running taps on the bath, flood the kitchen. Blood in the kitchen. Temptation isn't the evil one. Gold blackens. Stare at the screen too long and you're eyes will go square. Mascara runs races down rouge tracks. External perfection, unstable inner construction. Lost what's yours, it doesn't come back the same. Thoughts streaming continuously. Sometimes on loop. Jealousy for birds flying. Not knowing how to say those words, then they just slip out. Secret smiles. The sink will never be empty, but the glass is by half. Have you been naughty or nice? Pulling a gun on an innocent. To stay or to go. Deeply sad about the death of flowers. Eyes aren't always watching you, maybe. Breakdown. Fickle by nature. Small dreams. Bodies saying no are definitely saying yes. Buried underwater. Not being able to understand where the afternoon has gone. Train journeys going somewhere to nowhere. Can't quite get the date right all day. If the wind blows, and you're pulling that face. When your heart hammers. In two minds. How connected you are to your pet. Sadder than you should wish anyone else to ever have to feel a pinch of. Sky scrapers are still persistent in attempts of an affair with the sky, whatever would the horizon say, if the sun and moon should agree to tell! The feel of rain, smell of sunshine and the sounds of snow. Sitting down and being uncomfortably aware of every bone and joint in your body, until you no longer feel like there's skin on your bones anymore. The shower memories. Angry at the state of affairs, or the state fullstop. Everything maybe. Lightning bolts on the ceiling. Spiders in the sink. Longing. So many people and the panic. Feeling the wind through your hair. Accused nature sometimes of lies, but humans helped cover it up. On fire! On fire! If it doesn't taste disgusting it won't make you better. The tipping point. Counting ceiling tiles, just for stability. Stairs creaking. Postcards arrive late, the meaning is sometimes lost. Reading sadness in someone else's eyes. Jigsaw puzzles are tricksters. There's always something to celebrate. Sooner or later, you'll wake up. Life is too short for any of this kind of nonsense.

Life's too short. Too bad. Too this, too that. Loosing minds and worrying about clocks instead of time - what's that all about. We're so now, it's past. Waiting. Waiting for what? Tick tock, tick tock.

"It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on."
W. H. Auden

I've heard your heart beat, and now I'm awake and alive. I'm alive.