Quarantine

This isolation breeds such thoughts.
Dark and resentful.
Wreaking such havoc.
Splinters from conversations sucked from your mouth.
Now under my skin.
Into these veins.
The darkness carries itself, and I hear you in my heart.
Picking me apart.
From the inside out.

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Altitude

The thinned air drifts through me.
Up on this mountain.
Where the pine trees and promises grow.
It’s such a long way down from here.
That great expanse below, the past and a world without you.
I hold a thought, like I hold you in my arms.
Carefully, and cautiously.
Smothered in love.
A little drop of wonder which coats my mind.
That thought of joy breaking out of a dream.
Solidifying into my snowy reality.
Up here on the mountain.
I follow your path, and watch you watch the world from here.
Counting the moments we have and your eyelashes when you sleep.
Holding down the universe for you.
Yet when the distant thunder rumbles, shaking what we have built.
I confess, my heart trembles.
The snow turns black, and in my dreams fear tumbles our love.
Crumbling, like a plane into a skyscraper.
Covering the land with dust and sadness.
But this thunder does not last.
Quickly it is banished to the darkest parts of sleep.
For now I wake and walk the mountain, inside this wakened dream.
Collecting all of you, like fallen leaves from the trees.
Keeping them in my pocket.
Up here, on our mountain which grows further from the sea.
Raising up to meet god and pierce into heaven.

Desert eyes

To walk the sands of time, to find the doorway to heaven.
Leaves me breathless.
You put your hands on this skin, and I succumb.
Unabated astral movements behind my eyes.
To know you from somewhere, is to feel you under my skin.
As my blood crashes down the sand dunes on the walls of my heart.
I left you, and found you there.
Waiting for me where the moon sinks and threatens never to return.
With honey wine still on your kiss, I will not function.
I slip into another consciousness.
Walking in a dream that quivers on god’s fingers.
Kiss me from drying, and wake me once more.
Let me disappear into your arms that comfort me like a blanket against desert cold.
And I will wash these tears away in the pools of your eyes.
That offer such sweet safety swims, to the desert floor.

Border-lining-absent

She waited in the rain.
Caught between do or die.
Flee or fight.
Choking on decisions, each one bitter.
She watched as the world collapsed.
As the people fragmented into another time.
Small pockets of clouds like hurried breath in the cold.
Her feet were once rooted to the ground.
But he chopped that tree of life down.
Digging out all that treasure she had buried when she was young.
And now she alone and penniless.
Older and empty.
Not for what was stolen, but for what he had left behind.

The Silence in snow

What died in the night to still this air?
Silent and frightening like falling through a cloud.
A stillness encases everything.
Do we mourn the moon which has slipped away?
Devoured once more by the rising sun.
Now hidden behind a fog of flurries.
I move not, and the earth respectfully follows.
The world turned down as the blanket of white covers us.
The silence of the snow.
A familiar guest in our winter play, yet never guaranteed to come.
To visit and lay down its coat.
I catch the snowflakes, as I long to be caught.
Laid down in warm soft hands and gazed upon in awe.
My heart trips to a beat, the only sound I can hear.
No bird or animal quiver.
Blinded and stunned by the white light.
Closer to the light, I return.
Scarred like the sky that wept the whiteness.
And echoes a silence still.

Late night tale

What will be your legacy?

The earth will continue to turn over as the day melts into the misty night of the lonely. The seasons, with all their trappings will parade through time like compartments on a train; heading for an unknown destination but one that feels familiar.

What will you leave behind Jack, to a world already brimming with forgotten stories? Of people who have already done things that you crave to accomplish. Your life sits in the valley of the forever reaching, watching the clouds pass that offer hope and rain.
He held the phone to his ear, the ringing echoing in his skull like a voice in a seashell. He drew a pattern on his shorts as he awaited the click, the delayed static before they spoke. Looking outside his window he could see the half-moon poking its jagged edge above the trees. The clouds fluttered over it, shielding its full brilliance and illumination. Holding back the hope, and the light that didn’t even belong to it. The moon was a thief after all, growing infamous off the sun’s illumination.

“Hello?” the voice answered, the tinge of annoyance already present.
“Hi, how are you?” Jack said, clicking his fingers. He was nervous and angry; which had always been a dangerous mix.
“Fine….” they replied before following with “…you?” God forbid they be rude to the others listening. God watches all after all.

Even the devil? Jack wondered in that moment, as the moon ascended the top of the trees now and glared fully for the first time.

“I’m okay thanks. I was wondering if you wanted to talk?” He asked, trying his best to sound inviting, make his voice something that would open up the soul that had shut him out for nearly a week now. He knew it was a stretch, his feigned reassurance always came across as hostile for some reason, like razorblades in candy bars badly hidden.

“Not really.” They replied. He could hear music down the line, cutting the awkward silence that would be building now like a monstrous hill.
“That’s a shame. I thought by now you would have had time to think, and perhaps something to say to me. You know, you’re not being very fair.” Jack said, his voice stayed level. He was annoyed, it had been going on too long now. The uncertainty was eating away at his impatience, combusting his state of mind.

“Well, I’ve kinda said it all already. What else is there to say?” No remorse, no softly spoken words to reassure. Just the cutting knife of the reality that he had feared all along. Did they know how many nights that week he had cried into the pillow that their head used to sink into?  The smell of their hair long since gone. It had been ages since they had stayed over. A month and a war in the space of their relationship which was now halting, wheezing and ready to collapse into the river of time that pulled all things away.

He wanted to shake their head and heart, unhook the kindness that seemed to have been placed behind iron walls and stony facades. He knew these words betrayed their real feelings. How many times had they said they loved him, how many times? Less than he had ever uttered a nasty voice spat inside his own head. His mind had been a petri dish of all ill thoughts and worse case scenarios this past week. Suspicion breeding like virus as self-doubt was on the rise.

“I want you to say, you’re sorry I guess.” He blurted out suddenly, regretting it instantly but proud somewhat he had said it at all.

“Sorry?! Me?” the voice replayed, taken aback by such an innocent requests which echoed unwelcomingly in their own private world of self-preservation and denial.

“Yes, you’ve not been kind to me. You know how I feel, and you know what buttons to push.” He said.

There was a long silence, the music in the background having been turned off momentarily before. The break hung like Christmas decorations in March, out of place and conjuring conflicting memories.

“I’m…I’m sorry Jack.”

He was surprised, then overcome with panic. It was the goodbye he feared. The closure they needed and the thing he had orbited around. He had given them the ticket to depart and leave him forever. A clear conscience can flee with ease, and freedom only helps you say goodbye.

How long he had stayed on the phone, he didn’t remember. They must have clicked off a while ago as the moon now indicated to him the night had come. The darkness was here, nothing more now, and the nights were to be cold and desolate.

Ash in my mouth

I always run back to you, with my eyes closed.
Remembering the weight of it all.
Your bones in my arms.
A soul wanting to fly.
Your lips find mine and cigarettes singe my soul.
Leaving ash in my mouth.
These dark halls you make me roam, tiptoeing in silence.
Grow narrow and constricting.
Like the love you throw around me.
Circling like smoke.
Falling apart, and left in the cold. Lonely on the filthy streets.
You are the gold that flashes. The carat on the stick I follow.
But you bleed me out.
Gold rushing my love, sieving out the treasure.
(Don’t touch what you can’t afford).
Throwing away my faltering acrobatic anxieties.
Cutting the colours out. Dying them black.
You ask me to fill myself up, with something else.
Something less substantial. The silver of souls.
The tobacco stained parts you give so easily.
That fill me with tar, and are weighing me down.
Sinking into the ocean of you to drown.
Sunken but unique.