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Jun 2018 · 405
A (new) Level of Conscience
Jacob Haines Jun 2018
Finally rid of you.
You've clung to me for two whole years
like a parasite; fetid, vestigial.

This mild Friday was the surgeon's scalpel,
carving away the rotting flesh
till I could breathe again.

First came giddiness.
Light enough to float with the burden off my shoulders,
ready to sink into the depths of the dog days.

My bag practically emptied itself.
The papers and books interred in a box so I could
finally remember what my tabletop looked like.

Languor overcame me then, and I set about
drowning German recitals in episodes of QI,
burying Hamlet quotes with a controller as my shovel.

A thought crossed my mind as I
gutted the last of my sorting algorithms and Python code,
that I had been destroying part of myself.

Like the ***** that earned his fortune by
pleading for coins and pity from others. I had
forgotten what I was before.

I'm not worried, though.
Now I can write my Name, Centre Number and
Candidate Number on the next paper of my life.

Just remember block capitals. Write within the boxes.
Don't communicate with others. Keep your phone off.
As you can probably tell, I just finished my A-Levels. The relief is real, and I'm in that transitive stage between mid- and post-exam stress where I'm able to write stuff like this. Enjoy.
Oct 2016 · 1.2k
Balisong
Jacob Haines Oct 2016
It was supposedly a birthday gift,
this long-legged razor's edge.
My brother must've seen me
watching it's live demonstrations.

Little did he know,
how skilled I thought myself to be.

The wrapping came off easily.
It was crudely shredded by a lesser blade
soon to be replaced.
Then the weapon itself glared at me
through the clear plastic window of its box.
Unsheathing it then, I felt its power come to me,
two steel legs spreading for a ****** murderer.

I probed it meticulously, the blade
caught the light and somehow swallowed it
before its appendage whirled across to conceal it.
This was a knife with thoughts.

Then I tried my first trick.
The blade danced elegantly,
and though I held on (for dear life)
it wanted to escape from my clutches.
I was caging it gracelessly between my fingers
and its first prerogative was to be free.
Still holding tight, it changed tactics,
a blood thirst radiating from within.

The next move would be my last.
For one split-second it escaped the probation of my palms,
somersaulting through the air above me.
It pointed downwards for a final coup de grĂ¢ce.

I divorced myself from the weapon that day,
stitches adorned my bloodied hands
and the blade was taken as evidence,
though for what trial I never discovered.

My brother tossed it into the sea, I found,
legs still spiralling, blade still sharp.
This is probably why this type of knife is banned in most countries; if you don't use it properly, it can be a double-edged sword.
Jul 2016 · 1.3k
Morrison
Jacob Haines Jul 2016
The world remembers you with a sense of fondness,
You were the hero they chose when they needed one most.
You would gladly give your life to restore piece
without ever endangering someone else's.

The team looked up to you, as well.
You were the commander they chose when danger was close.
You watched over them and they supported you
without ever questioning your orders.

Your friends loved you dearly, as did I.
You were the brother they chose when they were afraid.
For a lot of them, without you,
they wouldn't still be here.

But the one who remembers you best is the Reaper.
You were the one he chose when a soul was due.
People are starting to forget your name,
*we're all soldiers now.
Everyone needs someone to watch over them, no matter who they may be.
Jul 2016 · 503
What if I
Jacob Haines Jul 2016
There was once a boy who climbed a tree,
searching for a long lost treasure of his.
He spied it on the horizon,
lying in a muddy ditch.

He took his guilty shovel in hand,
and booted it deep into the soil until he came upon
what he assumed was his prized relic.
The look on his face rivalled the look on hers.
Longing can sometimes lead to the strangest of discoveries.
Feb 2016 · 628
When I met you
Jacob Haines Feb 2016
I was brought into this world grasping for meaning.
My thoughts were clouded by worry and fear.
But when I met you,
the truth became clear.

I had nobody I could call my friend,
no man or woman on whom I'd confide.
But when I met you,
you put that aside.

I felt no allegiance to any good cause,
I wore no colours, swore no vow.
But when I met you,
you taught me how.

I'd all but given up on love.
When I felt it, it tore me apart.
But when I met you,
you mended my heart.

You made me whole once again,
with you was where I truly did belong.
But when we parted ways,
we stayed just as strong.
Dec 2015 · 415
Gunpoint
Jacob Haines Dec 2015
The bore of your revolver is clear to me now.
I'm staring down the rifled barrel,
coming face to face with the ammunition within,
It seems to glare back at me with a certain disdain.

Is it the person behind the trigger I'm worried about?
Or is it your bullets, the amalgamation of mind and metal?

I suppose it's too late to wonder now;
your thoughts have forced their way into my brain.
Sticks and stones may break my bones,
but words can load a .45.
Dec 2015 · 404
Limbs
Jacob Haines Dec 2015
I clung to her like a disease,
struggling to tighten my grip.

I could feel my arms straining,
but I wasn't going to give up easily.

My muscles began to tear,
I was ready to sacrifice myself for her.

I screamed out in pain,
Nobody, not even she, was listening.

My eyes closed, I shut myself off.
I felt the hard of the concrete beneath me turn soft.

It was then that I realised,
I had been a double amputee for the last 2 miles.
It's hard to hold on to someone without losing part of yourself to them. It's even harder to act as though that part of you is still there afterwards.

— The End —