Jul 2014
Two hours wasn't enough to write "Twigs".
I'm not even close enough to the fire to feel it's dying heat.
When the party moves away I'll dance around and through and behind the flames so I can really feel it.
Unfortunately it would appear, dancing through a twig fire isn't nearly enough for one's life to disappear.
The twigs burn for only minutes and I'll dance as long as I can for it's the only time that I have.
While I'm still alone just enjoy silence and that the cold stares of stars are being hidden by my fiery pollutants.
Judge people and opinions and facts, decide what is right then call it wrong because everything is neither.
When the party returns I'll slink off to find the kindling and ponder upon the fires inklings.
Gathering the twigs for poems and flames is better than watching my fire die surely?
Shame it's such a monotonous ******* trek, but monotony is the core of life, don't treat it too harshly.
And it's not like these twigs are ever entirely useless if one has but the curiosity to think about it.
Flames glimmer on beer bottles and the embered ends can light cigarettes.
If these pathetic flames won't burn me alive at least they'll help **** me slowly.
Would you believe this is where I came to write about love, lust and loneliness?
The greater themes of the past won't light my fire now unless one believes time is simultaneous.
Though that belief seems to offer no help whatsoever in the fight against freezing.
All good things must die as the wise men would tell me when I asked them for further closure.
But words don't burn unless you've written them on your forearm far too close to the light of open flames.
I began to write "Twigs" that night.
Two crates of beer, One pen found in the side of my car, Forty-three smokes, One pile of logs, Two significantly larger piles of twigs, Seven people, One left arm, Five stubborn bumps below the wheels of my barrow, A hat on a mannequin, Three bottles of wine, A sometimes blazing sometimes failing inferno and Fourteen long ******* hours...
Was not enough to write "Twigs"
Why did I think 2 hours would do it now?
I'm not even close enough to the fire to feel it's dying heat.
When the party moves away I'll dance around and through and behind the flames so I can really feel it.
Unfortunately it would appear, dancing through a twig fire isn't nearly enough for one's life to disappear.
The twigs burn for only minutes and I'll dance as long as I can for it's the only time that I have.
While I'm still alone just enjoy silence and that the cold stares of stars are being hidden by my fiery pollutants.
Judge people and opinions and facts, decide what is right then call it wrong because everything is neither.
When the party returns I'll slink off to find the kindling and ponder upon the fires inklings.
Gathering the twigs for poems and flames is better than watching my fire die surely?
Shame it's such a monotonous ******* trek, but monotony is the core of life, don't treat it too harshly.
And it's not like these twigs are ever entirely useless if one has but the curiosity to think about it.
Flames glimmer on beer bottles and the embered ends can light cigarettes.
If these pathetic flames won't burn me alive at least they'll help **** me slowly.
Would you believe this is where I came to write about love, lust and loneliness?
The greater themes of the past won't light my fire now unless one believes time is simultaneous.
Though that belief seems to offer no help whatsoever in the fight against freezing.
All good things must die as the wise men would tell me when I asked them for further closure.
But words don't burn unless you've written them on your forearm far too close to the light of open flames.
I began to write "Twigs" that night.
Two crates of beer, One pen found in the side of my car, Forty-three smokes, One pile of logs, Two significantly larger piles of twigs, Seven people, One left arm, Five stubborn bumps below the wheels of my barrow, A hat on a mannequin, Three bottles of wine, A sometimes blazing sometimes failing inferno and Fourteen long ******* hours...
Was not enough to write "Twigs"
Why did I think 2 hours would do it now?
(Northern Ireland)
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