Seems forever lost?

We do not fade when you close your eyes.
Etched in stone, carved in lies.
Beneath those words please sympathise.
Something starts, when something dies.

And though it seems we’re miles apart
I commit to god for the pain to depart.
When megaliths fall, freedom starts.
And so will heal, your blackened heart.

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Life defected

She made herself lost, scratching out her own identity.
How easy the shadows consumed, filling in the voids.
Washing deep into the caves of her soul.
To disappear completely, to cut those cords.
The attachments hurt like rotting teeth.
The tear was quick, rip-trip-flick.
Out into the wide blue, putting an ocean of miles between;
that harrowing of self. The death of dreams.
To be lost entirely tickled her within. Feeling the butterflies rise.
Like when she was a child.
Tantalisingly fluttering on possibilities.
She followed the breeze, winding over roads of bad intentions.
Finding herself underneath rocks and inside the corpses of birds which flew too high to the sun.
She heard her own voice in every crash of a wave, and the cry of each night making way for the dawn.
Her reflection she saw, rippling in the sea of tranquillity and in the eye of god.
To be lost, was how she found her soul.
Cast away on that tiny little craft of self.
On no-one’s tide.
Swallowing only her own light.
This is how she hoped it could be, all lost of time and space and never found.
And still she floats, and dives and flies.
Further from the sun each day, hoping to escape her own Milky Way.

Damaged the same

Leave those words where they land.
Bury them in time and walk across the snow.
The stretched out ghost that hangs in the air.
In our lungs.
All fog and white, fading into a nothing.
How precious was that moment?
When the blood began to shed.
And the tears you bled, from another wound.
We come in pieces, all broken and jumbled.
Your religion tells us we are perfect, but still must change.
We are damaged the same.
Scuffed knees and dormant psychoses.
Jesus in a black bag.
Satan in a veil.
We are tripping over the rug of this world.
Spilling tea on the soul of saints.
Watching the cracks creak a little wider.
Filling the voids with gold.
But not lost souls, just painfully aware we are human.
Trying to return to paradise.
Following maps that are written in tears.

RED #2: Ruddy muddy sleep

Not over, not complete.
Just fading away.
A blissful depression hung up like ruby red apples.
Strung like silly smiles on those too drunk to know.
This moment washes over, the gravity pulls you down.
Chipping out teeth like tombstones yanked from the ground.
Oh the silence that it unearths.
The faded names who hoped the future would be different.
But the future just teaches loneliness.
As a departure descends.
That long goodbye, hard on the ears but softly spoken.
Trembling in time.
Nothing really dies, we all just fade away.
Siphoned into space.
Breathed out on earth’s asthmatic exhale.
Heaving under strain.
Replaced by things we all despise.
How we spin and sigh and scream.
Reduced to floating dust and regret.
Asleep and dormant, waiting for the nothing.

Gossamer touches

Feeling the space, breathing upon a windowpane of pleasure.
Your lips, only an exhale away.
Trapped in a falling dream on golden gossamer thread.
Sticking to me like a forgotten memory.
Lost in the centre of your eyes.
Rush warm sensation.
Mouths intertwined.
A lover’s reflection.
Strung up like dew in the morning light.
Melt me into sunshine with a touch of your skin.
Breathe from within.
Slipping out of my soul while you sleep.
To kneel before the creator, and thank him for your existence.
Here on earth. Here next to me.
Underneath my skin and painting pictures in my mind.
A masterpiece, dripped on a canvas threaded with our DNA.
The brush strokes of the age. The hand of God, guiding our bones.
As we tread through our museum of moments.
We, the only tourist in our time; seeking grand adventure.
Purposely getting lost.

I came to disappear

Through wanderings of a hallowed heart.
That blesses the soil it treads upon.
Within it tolls a silent bell.
Which calls for time and distance.
And leave me not in that harried place.
Of ill begotten souls and woe.
That race about like dying rats.
And burn the imaginative pith to shadows.
We come alone, and all in pieces.
Figuring out where it all began.
I came out of the dark, and yet too close to the sun.
Now watch me disappear.

I know what I am chasing….. (PT I)

Alex stared out of the dirty window in his third floor apartment. The noise from the streets below floated in on the wind, sounds of traffic and everyday bustle. The water had finished boiling about five minutes ago, but Alex continued to stare outside; transfixed on a moment in time far removed from anything in the here and now. Something was missing, or perhaps a miss he thought. He’d watched it play out a hundred times before, the movie in his head rolled forward; staging the moment time and again when his heart had collapsed. Bodies all around, pavement; yellow in motion, blurring around a corner. Lost…

The phone on his desk rang, splintering the images, sending them cascading down out of the window and out of view.  He looked over and saw his phone next to the piece of paper he’d been avoiding for the past few days. Alex ignored the phone and made a cup of tea. Light was coming in from the window to his left and felt good on his face. He sighed and sat back down at his desk. The blank paper loomed in front of him. One missed call, nothing important. Nothing that will change his day and not the person he wanted. Suddenly the smell of flowers and formaldehyde washed over him. On warm days, the funeral parlour below him would open their back doors; today the sun was dripping down like butter on the city. Alex shook his head trying to shake away the smell, the masking of death and decay with flowers; the beauty of a funeral against the ugliness of death. He’d been looking for interruptions all day, but enough was enough.

Sipping his tea he picked up his pen to begin. Where to start though? he thought to himself. He had everything before him, the paper, the envelope, the stamp with the inaccurate face of the queen poised in time at twenty six. He had everything but the words. Words usually betrayed him, like cheap sentiments they were always conjured so freely. Tongue tied and twisted when the face appears, loosing his breath.

‘’Well, they’re not here now!’’ he spoke aloud to the empty room, only the pigeons on the window sill seemed to hear him, ruffling their feathers in supposed agreement. Here was the opportunity to say everything, overkill if need be, but time to get this out; it had been like a cancer corroding the heart. Suddenly a shadow passed over his window, darkening the small room. Alex looked over, spilling his tea slightly. Entering the frame and coming into to his room was a heart the size of a football, it throbbed as it descended inside. Alex watched as it came in, making only the rhythmic sounds of a heartbeat. It wasn’t the medical kind like that of a human heart sliced up by tiny lasers in hospitals, more of the ones that appear above people’s heads in cartoons.

Despite its crude appearance however, the insides were swirling around like of a washing machine with torrents of blood, motioning backwards and forwards in their swell. It stopped a few feet away from him and started to get darker and darker. For some reason images started flashing through his mind; silhouettes of faces, a date in a diary, tears over his own face as he watched from above like a spectre. The images pulsated through him like a radiation wave from the heart. His head ached.

Blinking back to the moment, Alex watched the heart; mesmerised. It was changing from a bright red, blurring down into a deep rich maroon colour. It remained in the air in front of him for a few minutes and then began to shake slightly, vibrating statically like the buzz from a telephone line. Alex held out his hand to touch it when a blinding flash of light crashed outward and cracked the room around him. Suddenly the heart started to move. Alex exhaled, paused only for a moment and began to follow it.

Opening the door and down the stairs Alex rushed, the heart floating through objects without a care like in a video game. Out in the mid day sun people around him seemed not to notice the Hannah-Barbara world into which he had descended. The heart it seemed was his apparition alone, his illusion, his spiral into madness. Down the street, past the newsagents that sold tatty imported porno magazines stuck next to cheap greeting cards for ‘A special niece’ and ‘ A Birthday boy’. He caught up to it for just a minute, he reached out to touch it before being pushed back by a force that felt like the heat from an oven, smothering his pores and taking his breath away for split second. Like many things it seemed, he could see, witness and be in the presence of the heart; but never touch. At least not without pain.

A spark was beginning to glow from within it now, at the bottom tip it began to throb and sway with the motion of its movements. Alex couldn’t take his eyes off of it, much to the annoyance of the few pedestrians currently making their way on that particularly warm March day. He rushed on, not giving a care to those he banged aside. A mum with a pushchair dropped the middle class façade her tailored clothes offered and shouted enough fucks to turn the most desensitised passer-by’s head. Alex was oblivious to it all, the spark had triggered something within him, and a memory was coming into focus like a body out of the fog.

If only the people around him could take a picture Alex thought to himself, as his life un-paused and free-fell into the future. If they could take a souvenir to remember this moment. Alex breathed out as the tears crawled down his face. The memory he’d only allowed himself to remember in a picture book, and very rarely, had exploded before him. Vibrant colours illuminated a world distant and familiar. An array of images blended into one another, his face with theirs. The words ‘I love you’ spattered the floor like an emotional downpour.  The moment when he knew he loved them, told them and was pattered on his head for his efforts. For a few seconds it seemed the words would be returned, the lips pursued and suspended in a opera of tension, translucent trails to happiness; the quiet suggestion of infinity. He had to walk it back from the edge, the help of an invisible force pulled him down. What he’d witnessed had happened to him, not too long ago; but it had all seemed so foreign to him them.

Suddenly, he was back in the street, the heart hazy now in the sun. The blue sky seemed to overwhelm him and press down on his body. Why was this so important now, on this day?  Hearts break everyday, his had been shattered for a while; the pilot light flickering just to keep him alive. Everything happens for a reason, he shook off his dizziness and continued to follow; the heart responded by increasing its speed.

The noise and clattering increased as he reached Baker street station. The familiar sight of London maps in stranger’s hands as the vacant eyes swept the surrounding buildings. Alex sped on, past the lines snaking outside Madame Tussauds. Clicks and whistles of foreign tongues culminated into the passing traffic. The heart it seemed was starting to fade….

TBC….

Love libarys lost

He skipped to the last pages of the book that he held like a bible in his hands, hands that had privately explored every secret and every page of the story. Words danced out before him, lost in their own rhythm; reaching their exhausting climax. The ending made no sense as usual, and he momentarily searched his thoughts as to why he’d begun it in the first place.

Ahh, that’s right; the cover looked so intriguing.

He placed the book back on his shelf, nestled it in-between an old copy of Harry Potter and his well-presented and orderly kept CD collection. There it was to remain, unopened and unexplored for an age as the dust that collected hung to the tops of the exposed pages like a glossy film. Over time the spine faded and the adventure was forgotten.

From the shelf, as if the characters had crawled from the pages to investigate, it was noticed how a new book was begun and captivated him. Other volumes cried tears of time as they were passed over again and again in favour of the new and intriguing yarn.

Until one day it was no longer present.

Unbeknownst to those who viewed from the shelf; the book was lost on a rainy Tuesday in the month of November whilst travelling on the underground. As is the case of public transport, too many souls shoved together in the tiny tin can, made for distractions and wandering of minds. Making sure his jacket was straight and his phone was buzzing like always, he had left the book on the seat next to him. A careless gesture one might say, like the throwing of a used cup out of the car window; as the residue drips from the inside. But secretly, upon discovery; he did not mind too much as the new book didn’t interest him as much as he had let on. Maybe someone else is reading that story now, on the Hammersmith and city line.

 

Professional forgetter

Wiped clean, like a smear on a window.
The fuzzy snow descended, hastening a lie.
Trying to forget me.
A twist and turn of those events, chalked up now in time.
Lay me down.
Wipe me out.
Hurrying the thoughts of the forgetful, the anger of the deceitful.
What deception is there? What transparency was muddied?
You stick your dirty finger into the crystal stream of us and shake.
Shaking it like a teacher to a child.
Colour inside. Stay out of the rain.
That wasn’t what I mean.
You stick to the treacled words and fly paper underneath.
Swatting the truths that appear like clouds.
Whispering such revelation.
Threatening to collapse it all undone.
Erase this now, box up those moments we shared.
The heart you held within those dirty hands.
Forget the unforgettable.

Coordinate my heart

Trying to find you on a map today, elusive and disorientating.
All lines and colours.
You’re lost to me, like thirty minutes in the wrong direction.
Asleep on the train.
The thorn in your side is me, the smile and frown pulling you under.
I barely stay afloat myself, holding on to these little rejections.
Devastated, my heartbeat quickens.
Deflated, the blood thickens.
No coercion in love, no help from above.
Just sweet words that fall to the floor.
Faster than the time before.