Words are more than sounds that are born from simple shapes the mouth make, more than mere vibrations that have spilled from your voice box and into the open air.
Words are vessels which can cradle feelings of beauty and happiness.
Other times it can be a syringe which injects poisonous and deadly thoughts into the brain.
I think it is safe to say I have had my fair share of these doses.
it’s nights like this
when my fingers are sticky and reek of popcorn
and my stomach purrs like an antique car
that i cease to exist
just a quiet little thief
tucked away in a prison of white stucco
stealing oxygen and racking up an electricity bill with a lopsided pink lamp
honey on my face
a “beauty treatment”
an edible headband sunken into my hair
gnats crawling between my eyelashes
black dots just as hungry as i am
the music of the wind plays outside my window
rattling long forgotten memories
and stirring up dust of the past
there’s a constellation in my hand
universes up my arm
purple lines swirling together into incoherent shapes
semi-deep whispers escaping my lips
that are pale and dry and hurt to touch
bad pop music crawls through crackly headphones
same song, different artist
and my sheets
animal print, picked from years past and never changed
due to either nostalgia or laziness, the world may never know
disengage themselves from my bed
twine around my ankles
sly cats looking for milk
and hunger eats at my heart
i count the minutes as they spin on
by the soft timpani as it thumps eighth notes through my chest
I thought I understood it.
The way the world operated.
The safety and compassion,
The darkness, the secrets and the fears.
I thought I knew myself,
I thought I knew my body.
My bones, my shapes, my figure.
But I did not soon realise this could change.
I thought I knew our passion and devotion,
And the way we were attached when we loved.
But the sensation brought consequences,
And so did I.
I soon imaged the rhythm of the heartbeat for the first time.
I soon imagined that grasp on my forefinger.
I soon imagined the love I felt.
I soon imaged the struggles, the loss and the hate I’d face.
I soon imagined destruction,
With just two swallows it would be gone for good,
And the fight would be over.
But I never wanted to face that choice,
I wanted to hold the delicate youngster in my arms.
I wanted to protect them from the horrors of the world.
But this was not likely.
I began to question all the possibilities and outcomes,
But no other have sprung to mind.
For I thought I understood myself and the universe,
But I've been left scared and confused.
But what could be worse than living with guilt.
I thought I understood it, but I did not.
I am a contradiction
I am an eighties perm in 2013
I am not thinking
I am not ebbing
I am not flowing
But I am happy
I am seaweed that fails to move with the current
I am the loneliest I have ever felt
I am the most sure of things I have ever been
My mind is an ocean
My heart is a plane
My fingertips hold the pulse of earth's heartbeat
I spin intricate webs of thoughts through the overcrowded bookshelves in my mind
But that's okay
Because when you're lying in bed at 3:18 in the morning
you begin to realize that you don't need to
ebb or flow
Your shit doesn't need to be formed into a
tight and perfect sphere
You can just be
And whether being is
having the puzzle complete or
the pieces scattered across 7 different continents
in the end
it's all just pieces
A piano was softly playing in the background of their minds
It's fullness delicately hearable in every keystroke
A beautiful autumn day with the windows slightly open
The music slowly drifting across to the playground
Two children lie in the leaves looking at the always moving sky
Make shapes in the clouds with their wonderful imaginations
A beautiful melody connecting him and her much more than their young minds could think
The music so lovely yet so underliningly disdainful
Her hand enveloped his as she rolled over to look in his hazel eyes
He looks out the window now a man of twenty five
To the playground where he met a girl very many years ago
He remembers this house from so long ago
The piano now moved to the window
He sits down to play but only one melody comes to mind
A haunting but beautiful melody with slight disdain
He cannot remember where he has heard it before but his hazel eyes start to cry
A beautiful autumn day with the windows slightly open
As he wipes the tears away he smiles for his daughter now lies with a boy in the leaves
Her eyes so dark and brown remind him of his wife he lost but only a few years ago
She asked him one wish to move where they fell in love
He remembered a melody where they fell in love
This melody forever haunting him
That night, my eyes paraded along beige pages
Dripping with satire, self-loathing and daddy issues
And I felt the cynic in me dance like a madman
Who had just snapped the neck of a baby bird
Cruel and unsympathetic, but dancing all the same
And then my eyes met a string of printed black shapes
Which halted me, though lukewarm in comparison
To its sibling pushes of ink, jeering and suicidal
The shapes read,
“People don't want their lives fixed. Nobody wants their problems solved. Their dramas. Their distractions. Their stories resolved. Their messes cleaned up. Because what would they have left? Just the big scary unknown.”
It was something I'd touched several times before
But denied myself to hold on to
I would catch it like a leaf in the wind
Then my eyes would cross its black spots
And I would let it go, brushing my hands of it
But that night, in my madman craze and my sneering laughter,
I felt the familiar bother of a leaf orbiting my skull
And my eyeball parade froze and my madman feet could dance no more
So I lay there until I felt the sun blush and heard the birds begin to sing
For it was not one of their own laying still, plagued by demise
“No sense of the irony of human experience, that we are the highest form of life on earth, and yet ineffably sad because we know what no other animal knows, that we must die.” -Don DeLillo
Angel dust on a whispering breeze
sending protection, worry frees
that feeling you can’t put you finger on
that was your angel, your shoulder upon
they come in many guises
different events, shapes and sizes
sprinkling their magic as they go
not caring if you ever know
their always around
their love abounds
grief carried away on angels wings
strumming gently on your heart strings
recognise that their nearby
gaze wistfully at the sky
knowledge shines from within
an angel has just been
do you know what it means to lose?
sad about your candy floss dreams
that started out so big
but with dissapointment they shrivelled to nothing before you even got a taste
at your candy machine self
as you are literally inches away from what you want
and somehow you get stuck and you realise no amount of abusing- mentally, verbally or physically
is going to get you past this.
it is restrained silence
for your m&m aquaintances
that come in all different shapes, colours and sizes
but under the surface when you lose against them
they are all exactly the same.
When you wake up in the morning
And there's a note on your mug
"I didn't want to wake you"
"I left your favorite donuts on the table"
"When you sleep you make little sobbing sounds"
(And I think that's cute) is implied
To no longer be your own
To be stealing his deodorant
Because you miss his smell at work
And kitchen smells are not musician smells
And guitar strings are not
But they might as well be
Because you feel
You would gladly do his laundry
For another song to fall asleep too
Many ways he kisses you
Too many places to count the stars
Too many phantom vibrations
And you think your phone is ringing
Because he just wants to talk about your day
You lose it for a minute
But it's nothing
It's the wind blowing
It's just missing someone
And you're terrified you've forgotten
The shadows his nose casts and
The dilations of his eyes
And the shapes of his words
As they meet your ears
But you look up at the moon
How it waxes
Your love goes through phases
That bring in the tides
And wash lost shark's teeth out to sea
Your love changes daily
Loving him is often scary
You are perpetually quaking
Remembering how quickly
Sweet things dissolve in the rain
Sugar wastes enamel
Like time wastes muscle
You could fit a camel through the eye of a needle
Easier than you can handle this
Than you can wrap your head around
Having no control
Because you cut the reins
You wanted it that way
And you forgot that fear
Taste like red wine and stale saltines
And being out of ice cream
You wanted it that way
You wanted a love story
You wanted to know that there's no such thing as control anyways
No such thing as
An autonomous heart
And you are fucked
Because you could draw the shadows his nose casts
The squeeze of his ass
The way his eyes fluoresce at the sight of you
You are fucked because he is all you can think about
Past, present, future
I mean, you are seriously fucked
He always seems to find me when I'm by myself
My thoughts twist into terrible shapes of
They turn into him. The Whisper Man.
He sits next to me and puts an icy arm around my shoulder.
His raspy voice tells me it's been far too long.
I sink down, ready for the onslaught. What shall we talk about?
He doesn't waste time getting to the point
Isn't it interesting how your friends are all getting married, yet you're still alone?
What do your friends even see in you?
Don't you ever get the impression that they pity you?
They're starting families, and there soon won't be any room for you
You're not that great, honestly.
You have no talents
You have no useful hobbies
You have no memorable skills
Do you even know who you are?
I take each blow in stride, ignoring the dull feeling in my stomach
The Whisper Man regards me with a playfully sinister smile
He knows he's got me where he wants me.
He looks around, clearly bored, as if I'm wasting his time
He says he'd love to stay, but I'm not worth the effort anymore
He gets up and walks out the door without another word
I can finally breathe, though the emotional bruises are still fresh
They'll heal in time for his next visit