On a spring day, Emelia soared through the field, like a baby robin learning to fly, running in diagonals with her hands brushing against every shrub and leaf she saw.

Mud drenched pink overalls
and a bright blonde bowl cut.

She ran like a bumble bee on a mission
to pick the freshest, prettiest flower.

Stepping over bugs and playing tag with chipmunks,
she giggled uncontrollably and was a friend to all that walked nature's green carpet, tripping over wild, wispy grasses.

She looks up with innocent eyes, beaming like two sunflowers,
"We have to share," she announced to the big tree
that resembled Grandmother Willow.

She had just seen Pocahontas for the first time
and wanted nothing more than to become a color of the wind.

The wind blew the leaves in a nodding fashion,
showing agreeance to the young sprites statement.

She whipped and whirled her arms toward the sun
as it danced on her skin through the branches of her friends.

"I want to do this forever," she squealed.
So, she did.

20 years later, the girl grew
But with a dimmer light
Weaker legs
And a hole in her chest.

On a cold night, Emelia staggered through the barren field, fueled by a magic dust that made her feel like a crashing plane
Running in diagonals with her hands
Brushing against her watery eyes, keeping them from flooding.

Mud drenched ripped jeans
and a long, shaggy haircut mirroring the bark on the trees.

She ran like she was being chased by a vicious monster
trying to find the safest space for her to vent after feeling her brain bleed from her nose and heart deflate in its cage.

Stumbling over broken bottles and playing tag with her inner demons, she was a slave to all that walked nature's casket, tripping over roots and graves, smashing against a tree.

She looks up with innocent eyes, welling with painful tears,
"We have to share," she whispered to the big tree
that resembled Grandmother Willow.

She felt an unbearable pain that no one should live with and wanted nothing more than to be numb.

The wind stopped in it tracks, the leaves stagnant on their branches, showing heart wrenching dismay to the old skeleton's statement.

She sobbed and heaved with her arms wrapped tight to her torso
as her skin danced with her shuttering bones and tightening muscles.

"I don't want to do this forever," she helplessly breathed.
But, she did.

Receiving and reflecting
on revolting reassurances.
You reason with me
"I'm right",
ranting on about your righteous
wrongs.
Ruefully agreeing to you,
an overrated relationship
rescued by agreeance.

you'd always come home via the garden path, reveling in the crunching of the twigs, the slooshing of the leaves, the endless clackering of misfound footfalls. till the day, after a particularly satisfying stomp snapping, you looked underfoot and saw the remains of the fallen sparrow's nest


it took you five days to soak out the blood


tonight's supposed to be the biggest moon in 68 years. Biggest moon! Wow.


a girl at the party says it's stupid to care what others think. i agreed with her. She agreed with my agreeance, and then burst into tears. i ignored her and walked away. i'm a frigid *****, but theys' gotsta learn, they


God, the flies, it's such a cliché, but it's true, as you trek down into the sludge you can't see them but you can hear it, the buzzing, you can always, from everywhere, the buzzing


when our flatmate left, he deconstructed his bed. he didn't take it with him, he just, took the mattress, threw it in the water closet, left the headboard on the stairway landing, and the sides and springs'n-**** in the garage
                      i really respect the gesture


in the gully between the graveyard and the mine, they built a highschool. a ******* highschool. lord knows why. it looks like a ******* campers lodge, all the kids climb up the banks and the uni students sell them acid in lolly mix nickel bags. everyone i've ever known came from that school, one way or another. heavens know why. hey, look at the big chimney, guess the furnace is on. it's still in use, huh? probably shouldn't be loitering. anyway-


the big diggerman's dig up the concrete, put it in a bucket.
the big diggermans with the big digger truck, with all the cones and stop signs.
Bawm! Bwam! the big muscle arm, full of strewn piping and pistons, bab's the ground bab bab. Take that, ground! Bab Bab!! the spinning chair vibrates, the man gyrates, and the big arm up's and downs, down down, swivel, dump.


remember when we were thirteen, and the idiot boys made a game of standing in a circle, trying to **** into their own mouths? you wanted to punch them in the face, but didn't want to get your hands *****. if only you'd known, back then, that your limbs were really just overgrown turnips, would you of been so insistent at keeping your distance? keeping the world at arms length? that's always the irony, isn't it. the world was inside you all along

–

At the end of the cemetery, past the hedges, a car park, overlooking the hill, where there's a huge oak tree, and all the concrete is just fractured under its weight, and the asphalt is in tar stricken colours a blackbird in mid-dive splatter. Anyway. Sorry,-

god, you're making porridge? Porridge? *******, are you even hungry, or did you just ******* want to see the ******* oat-*****-muchus coat everything you

-just, there, in this graveside car-park overlooking the city but also in the middle of nowhere, there's two cars. One, a ******* Mitsubishi GT, all slick and weltering plastic, pure pristine millionaire CEO's toy phallus, and beside it, a banged up old Datsun, and it all seems like an allegory for something, but it isn't, it's just, someone dumped these two ******* cars here, but they're not even dumped per see, the registry in the windows are up to date and everything, but they're just there


      all the damp men take the STOP out the truck, stand on the road, hold the cones, watch the digger man seat shuffling; gotta shuffle move up the pavement before you big hand down


You were too clever, weren't you? to bash her head, right there, in the corner, there, above the left cheek bone, so i couldn't tell, right? to make her look like just one more corpse, among the rot? obscure that one side, turned away? left to decompose, mid-perch, on a desert highway? well, maybe it wasn't, maybe it was just someone else, but the fact that you knew, you knew i'd check above the left temple, and that you ****** chose that as the point of rupture, it shows, it just ******* shows, the


the flies never gather, at the point of death, they just breed in the damp, the gulleys surrounding it, why is that


and just look at you now, sitting there, naked as a newborn, crying to yourself, wiping your weepy eyes with your simpering turnip paws, and it's just pathetic, isn't it? And i love you, i do, it's the one moment i can say it, i can feel it with burning, simple purity, with self effacing truth and clarity, because, here, i don't matter. you don't need me, you need a body to hold, an arm to hug you. in loving you i can be absolved of all qualities, and so, for once, i do, i do

Yeah no! In sixty-eight years! What even is the moon



it's amazing, i've eaten nothing in the last thirty-six hours, except a single dried apricot. yet
                                   i need to *****

  you know that feeling? What a feeling. You need to retch, but there's nothing to retch, and there you are, just standing there, at 5am gagging to yourself in a damp field. A stomach, trying to turn away, fold upon and shaft itself a vicissitude. A stomach, no, no, yes, you see?  You need to empty yourself of this bile. What bile? Exactly. There's nothing. Nothing up-emptied onto nothing. And that's all there is, right, that's all that life is, is given right there; the gag, the convulsion, the upturning unto itself, the attempt, attempt, you understand? Of the cathexis, of the innerworld, taken to contain only the unspeakable within itself, miserly bile, a concomitant of all the worlds ills and would be ills and then upon it taken as an ill unto itself, a single nebulous fluid husk of malignant umbra, held in *******, bound in fleshy lining. But then the expulsion, the retch, is attempted, to take all the seething disease of the inner and to project, upturn it onto the outer world. Where? It doesn't matter. In the bin, into the shrubbery, Anywhere but in here. Once it's gone, it gone, that's all that matters, gone, go, go, get. The body tries to push the malaise of(as) the internal unto the external, the outer, but in doing so, finds itself(boundary) empty, where it thought it incubated only vile, there was instead, only nothing, but still, somehow, the convulsing, the retching, the act itself, remains. And that's it, you see? That's all it is, all the emotional turmoil, all the half-hearted hallucentric episodes, the all of everything, is just that, just an, an emptiness trying to upend itself but finding there's nothing to upend, but it still asserts itself as process, as an unending nausea, unresolvable nausea, both grounding and thrown, the throwing and that-which-is-cast, bent under itself,  nausea



the swamp reclaimed the garden last summer. flood season, after all. some days the stagnant waves came right up to the brickwork, can still see the lines, see? your old swing set's a gonna though. all the rabbits either abandoned their dens, or were drowned out. lord knows how many micro-organisms died as well. lot's of new ones were probably borne though, right? hear those flies, bzzt, bzzt. life loves damp heat. you can never tell, never tell really.

It’s all Relative

The animals
The plants
The people
Life.. in its entirety
Everything that ever is or was
Is relative  to your perspective
                   to your experiences
                   to your actions
                       your thoughts
                       your point of view

No two people will ever see eye to eye
Because one body cannot occupy the same space
As another at the same instance

We may be able to replicate one’s perspective
And empathize to the point of agreeance and compromise
But unless you can turn back time
To relive someone else’s life
You can never see eye to eye

We can share experience
Whether it be through lessons
Or simply experienced simultaneously

Observed at this instance and scale
We can agree that this is eye to eye
But when compiled with all other experiences
The interpretations change

Prerequisite knowledge needed
To process said experience will always be
Different, either through differing lessons
Or different perceptions

Even these small discrepancies, overtime,
Create major contrast between two perspectives


When we study masses of population
We see patterns in beliefs and opinions
This is a simple byproduct of the aforementioned
--Sharing of experiences--

Many of the conflicts that arise in society
Can boil down to the simple system
Of good and evil


When you allow two options posed
On a mass of people, inevitably
A portion will choose option A
A portion will choose option B,
And a portion will remain undecided

Each option posed is both good and evil
But the portion that chooses their respective option
Believe it to be good and the opposition to be evil

This decision is directly relative
To the perspective of the individual
The conclusion of good vs evil
Can be shared, though the reasoning
That led to said conclusion will have differences

The experiences that offer similar conclusion
May and often are similar and even sometimes
Appear to be identical

Most behavior, when directed toward
Another form of life, can be labeled
Good or evil

When boiled down to the
Black and white..
It will either be
One or the other

It's 10 pm, Saturday night. I'm down in Jessie's place, just to join her in a lust filled night of sorts. Her blonde hair radiating from the lamp on the night stand. I carry her in my arms, both arms out resembling a father carrying a newborn baby except she wasn't my baby, not in that sense anyways. The tension in the air was so thick that even a butter knife couldn't spread the tension, but me and jessie had spread on our mind.

I could smell her alluring scent as I lay her down onto the bed, it must have been the thrill of daring to step into a boundary we had no knowledge existed. Love thy neighbour as heavenly quoted by men and women all around the world, I guess I was abiding by what I have been taught.

A little bit about Jessie, Jessie had these mesmerising blue eyes and had a husband, John,a fine husband, a brave husband who was filled with love.  John wasn't ever one to toot his own horns but he had the right to refer to himself in the third person, why wouldn't John be given the right? He's awesome and extremely brilliant at that. Nothing short of Superman or Einstein is what John has been told.

Jessie has been my neighbour for years, ever since I could remember. I drink a lot, so I haven't exactly the best memory of when or wheres. It was how we met, she was my neighbour and I was hers. Now we were closer, so close to the point that I could see her blue eyes staring into mine.

"Jess, I hope it's Ok, I wrote you ... a little poem. That's not...umm too weird right ?"

"Sure, as long as it's not something too eerie. Don't be too...what's that word?... Sappy" Jessie nodding in agreeance.

The words glided out of my lips like a gold medalist ice skater, with elegance and soft subtle seductive intentions.

'Love is like an ocean,
The sounds of crashing waves against rocks,
That mimic the sound of my heartbeat,
Love is more than an emotion,
Love is the echo of water dripping in a cave,
Love is a poison and a potion,
It is the pollen that fills the spring air,
Love can cause chaos and beauty
It holds onto your hearts and never lets go'.

I ended my recital by looking into Jessie's direction for affirmation of its quality, I couldn't actually pinpoint her ****** response but I'll try my best to capture it. Her eyes, rolled to one side in a condescending and demeaning manner but her smile was filled with some sort of ...actual craving for more.

My lips shot forward similar to the teens 'duck-face selfie poses', and I asked "So... do you ... like?".

Silence...

I waited for a little longer, or what felt like an eternity in my mind's timeframe.

Silence again...

I expressed my regret "Sorry, I'll recite another one?... Yes? "

"The sun and the moon,
You see they were friends,
But not everything twist and bends,
And even though the sun loved the moon,
He had loved her since yesterday's noon,
When she wasn't even around, he loved her.
Somewhere far away in the horizons,
It clearly never seemed to occur,
In her mind that he was thinking of her.
So every night, while birds and bees went to sleep
He died.
Just so her light could shine above his.
He died.
Just so her close friends, the stars could visit.
He died.
Just so the world appreciated her beauty,
Rather than his necessity."

Jessie still dressed in her singlet and underwear, quickly rose on two feet as a Chevrolet pulls up her driveway. A man with a neanderthal-like figure burst through the door yelling, ' I leave for business... and ya'll ******* in my house? ON MY ******* BED!!'

I tried my best to get past his door, because it was the only way I knew I would be able to keep my current state, the state of being still alive.
...

Jessie trying to explain everything with words, yes ...trying to use words with what clearly is a caveman.

'Darlin' we didn't do anything, he's just here yappin' on about something with moons and suns. I swear, I didn't do anything indecent'.

The caveman spoke again, in proper non-swearing, non-screaming English.
     'Sons? He was tryin' to put a baby in you? THAT'S IT!!.. Imma **** him!!'

That was the day I met John.

"Dedication of a particular word by a different manner"
                                                   "Draft"
A volume of traffic is controlled by a traffic person as like here in our writing world Draft is that person who control our work by saving a particular thing in a proper way.
Draft is that word which tick yours mind with a new ideal thought on everytime, Draft is a piece of text ,known for a particular work, which be saved incomplete without completing it till the next time.....
Draft is something that calculate work in a different manner of time...
A Person can continue the work with a fresher thoughts & can create a new idea to maintain it with large scales of words.... Draft of a letter is a roof of words and leaves of paper planted with different ways of thoughts!!...
Draft is only made when there is work to flip up with a new ideas & scripts lift down with the words weight in the reality of scene!.....
Draft is a friend of mine with a
Receiving and reflecting
revolution way of thinking.
Draft You are the  reason behind me
"I'm right", or " I'm wrong"
grating me about your righteous
way of correction agreeing to you,
An rated words to a
rescued agreeance.
                                                                             -Chirayu

I said this would not happen again
I told myself I would not let it
I said I was deserving
I said nothing less of a princess

But still

I allow him to push me around
I allow him to make me feel small
I allow him to say the things he wants because

They’re just words
They’re just jokes
They’re meant to be funny
They’re not met to be taken seriously

But I guess

The fat on my stomach told me he is not wrong
The cellulite in my thighs nodded with his words  
The hair on my face agreed with every word he spoke
The slab of fat on my arm swung in agreeance

I found myself deciding my self-worth on

How many times he said I was beautiful
How many times he said he loved me
How many times he let go of my hand when people approached him
How many times he cared to open any door for me

I said I had changed
I said I was better
I said I love me

But

You broke me  
You left behind a person I don't recognize
You left me

Back to square one

And spray-painted "Black Lives DON'T Matter"
In the parking lots
The week before they changed the wifi name
To "School Shooting at 1"

But it doesn't matter!

Of course it matters, but it doesn't

But listen
Because what I have to say might be important

The truth of the matter is this:
Hate is so cruel
It's mean
That's its nature!
But we don't have to accept it
Those incidents?
They were a couple different things
Caused by a few ******* teens.
But it doesn't matter
Because we are all here to just be
That's all.
We are meant to hurt
To cry
To bleed
To be pained
But it is not the end state
I do not care what your personal beliefs are
But I do
Because you are an individual soul
Fragile and beautiful
But you are just one
The same for myself
Now think
Together we can be powerful
We can be strong and wonderful
We are unstoppable

Have you ever seen a revolution led by only one person?
No supporters?
No agreeance?
More than likely not.
But it always starts with one.
One person
One idea
One value
One soul
One perspective

I am ready to take up arms
Against cruelty
Against hate
Let's start a revolution
Let's love

Some nights it would rain.
And in the comfort of solace I'd get up.
Grab my shoes, my coat and head straight to where
I felt most comfrtable.
Though this place near.
Not too many knew about it.
I'd go straight to her heart and comfort her during the storm.
It was something different about it.
Her heart.
Meeting her near and dear.
To bring her comfort put me at ease.
It's not that she needed or required company.
But deep down I felt at peace.
Watching the sky ignite every so often.
Igniting our hidden passion.
Our eyes the closest thing to a telescope.
We reminded each other how we should feel.
Our turns smiling and laughing.
Often times I'd forget the rain completely.
Becoming drenched in the patter of her heart.
In the end all we'd know was silence.
Coming to terms in our own agreeance.
The further apart she wanted to be, the closer we actually became.
Even now she kisses me in silence.
Not a cloud in sight.

Baffled at her simple beauty, we began
to immerse ourselves in a forest of conversation, each tree a commonality, sitting on branches in agreeance, with the leaves bringing life to our exchange, lightly brushing those of another tree.

Standing wild-violet-timid in careful shoes, I collapse into Monday.

My internal weather is spiky with low-level nausea. Brain fog, mind-cloudy at first, with a high chance of precipitation across the afternoon. Externally, the settling cold front will bring morning squalls before a high-pressure system arrives in the early evening.

Difficult to know what shoes are needed  
for this day, this time,

let alone what armour, masks, and steel
with this climate, this energy...

Hard to predict what will be stored in memory
by this mind, this brain...

This questionable,
yet seldom questioned,
recording of events,
from my flawed perspective only...

Should I attempt to trust myself today?
The answer neither clear nor confident
Instant reflex shoulder shrug
With gaze-avoiding fizzy nerves
A patent hint that I may be
    a trifle less than competent

What lens will shape my history today?
And will it light me kindly or in glare?
When my parts construct the story
Hope they break it to me gently
But I know that my track record
    not-so-subtle hints beware
  
If my brain detects a glimpse of faults or glimmers of malfeasance,
it will use these torts to make the case that I deserve all grievance
from a host of inner parties with a wavering allegiance
the impedance to agreeance is a tendence to vehemence, so

How will I use the playback from today?
I could use it well in kindness or in pain
With the re-runs stealing airtime
From productive contemplation
I could use it as more proof that
    I should not have trust again…

Tomorrow, I will wear my security boots, with stronghold socks.

you say i'm not a burden
but i see you don't want my company
don't tell me not to feel insecure
when you obviously wanna leave
i feel too uncomfortable
to stand here as you wish to be
somewhere else with somebody else
that you enjoy more than me
i get it i do
just dont make it worse
your ****** expression
contradicts your words
i feel unwanted
so why shouldn't i desert
your body language is enough
to tell me to hit the curb
but you swear that its fine
for me to hang around
finally you convince me
i ignore my doubts
sending good vibes
and trying to fit in with your crowd
still all i feel is invisible
and always get left out
what did i expect
not a welcome parade
i just thought since you promised
i wouldn't have to be afraid
but as soon as i came in
you wandered away
and relief pours over your body
after you lose my face
in the group of people
that all hate my guts
they think i'm emotional
and see you're my crutch
they laugh at me as i fall over myself
and say what a clutz
i guess i deserve it
since i trusted you so much
still it stings and it burns
they laugh as i weep
you watch and do nothing
either in agreeance or because you're weak
i should've just not showed up
or let you make me believe
that you actually wanted my friendship
when you just felt pity