my swing is broken.
my home is gone.
my refuge has been taken.
my soul has been ripped apart.
i have nothing to hold on to.
i am falling.
Saturday, 30 October 2010
stranger, continued.
for once, his swift limbs
wouldn't carry her fast enough.
heart pumping frantically
her uncontrollable rage fuelled her spirit
the cold air no longer seared her skin
pure anger turned her blood
hot, burning, scalding
she needed to scream
but she feared her most
buried secrets would leap out
off her tongue and into the
looking girl's ears.
how dare she?
stare with her cruel, judgemental eyes
mocking her, laughing at her
she was the one who should be laughing
she, who kept her emotions safely
away from the scathing world
at she who displayed her inner thoughts
like that of an open book!
tempted to give in
to surrender to the weak human's
misguiding embrace
no, she was stronger
she knew better
liars, cheats, all of them
out for mere personal gain
none of them could she ever trust
just as well that she didn't need their
pathetic, useless help.
his hooves churned up the ground
beneath them
she thrust the reins away from her
spread arms wide
head thrown back
long, deep gulps of air
she could do anything
be anything
be everything
nothing, no-one could stop her
a fool she once was
trusting, caring, believing
now, a fortress
above the ones who had hurt her
untouchable.
unbeatable.
wouldn't carry her fast enough.
heart pumping frantically
her uncontrollable rage fuelled her spirit
the cold air no longer seared her skin
pure anger turned her blood
hot, burning, scalding
she needed to scream
but she feared her most
buried secrets would leap out
off her tongue and into the
looking girl's ears.
how dare she?
stare with her cruel, judgemental eyes
mocking her, laughing at her
she was the one who should be laughing
she, who kept her emotions safely
away from the scathing world
at she who displayed her inner thoughts
like that of an open book!
tempted to give in
to surrender to the weak human's
misguiding embrace
no, she was stronger
she knew better
liars, cheats, all of them
out for mere personal gain
none of them could she ever trust
just as well that she didn't need their
pathetic, useless help.
his hooves churned up the ground
beneath them
she thrust the reins away from her
spread arms wide
head thrown back
long, deep gulps of air
she could do anything
be anything
be everything
nothing, no-one could stop her
a fool she once was
trusting, caring, believing
now, a fortress
above the ones who had hurt her
untouchable.
unbeatable.
stranger.
girl and companion
silhouetted against bleak, open skies
blink
and i would've missed her.
mounted on chestnut-brown horse
pale fingers loosely entwined in
worn, leather reins.
back straight, head high
defensively, lips closed
a brief warning to passers by
come close, she whispers without words
and regret will follow.
yet her eyes spoke differently
defiant and cold though they were
on the rippling surface
deep, simmering green with a
dash of uncertain grey
i glimpsed a lost child
craving warmth
a bleeding heart
compassionate soul
alone, locked behind a glass wall,
still drowning in her past.
realising her thoughts were
unguarded, if only for a single moment
she pulled on the reins,
twisting broad shoulders and
athletic torso, long hair flying
freely in the coarse, biting breeze.
with an obedient sigh, loyal horse
turned and cantered away
across the horizon and down to the
unknown land beyond my sight.
just before she disappeared
one glance, fleeting and desperate
roles suddenly reversed
now she could gaze into my open soul
begging me to reprieve her of the
heavy burden she had carried all her life.
for a second, i felt it
i struggled under the immense weight
the intensity of the pain
i couldn't breathe
nearly forgetting i could refuse
for only her glare manipulated my senses
i threw it back
i couldn't bear it
nor did i want to.
doors slammed shut
keys bent and broken.
she ran
so afraid
ashamed before rejection
escaping confrontation
hiding in the shadows.
still as an empty corpse
i stood there
staring at where she had once been
overwhelmed with a desire to
chase after her, comfort her
be the person she needed me to be.
but i didn't.
what was i thinking?
after all
she was only a stranger to me.
silhouetted against bleak, open skies
blink
and i would've missed her.
mounted on chestnut-brown horse
pale fingers loosely entwined in
worn, leather reins.
back straight, head high
defensively, lips closed
a brief warning to passers by
come close, she whispers without words
and regret will follow.
yet her eyes spoke differently
defiant and cold though they were
on the rippling surface
deep, simmering green with a
dash of uncertain grey
i glimpsed a lost child
craving warmth
a bleeding heart
compassionate soul
alone, locked behind a glass wall,
still drowning in her past.
realising her thoughts were
unguarded, if only for a single moment
she pulled on the reins,
twisting broad shoulders and
athletic torso, long hair flying
freely in the coarse, biting breeze.
with an obedient sigh, loyal horse
turned and cantered away
across the horizon and down to the
unknown land beyond my sight.
just before she disappeared
one glance, fleeting and desperate
roles suddenly reversed
now she could gaze into my open soul
begging me to reprieve her of the
heavy burden she had carried all her life.
for a second, i felt it
i struggled under the immense weight
the intensity of the pain
i couldn't breathe
nearly forgetting i could refuse
for only her glare manipulated my senses
i threw it back
i couldn't bear it
nor did i want to.
doors slammed shut
keys bent and broken.
she ran
so afraid
ashamed before rejection
escaping confrontation
hiding in the shadows.
still as an empty corpse
i stood there
staring at where she had once been
overwhelmed with a desire to
chase after her, comfort her
be the person she needed me to be.
but i didn't.
what was i thinking?
after all
she was only a stranger to me.
Friday, 29 October 2010
control.
she sighed, and the mist parted.
she cocked to her head to one side,
and the landscape tilted, trees and dark
houses with bright windows sliding
into deep, shadowed lakes.
control
was something she couldn't live without
yet never possessed.
it fooled her into thinking
she could do whatever she pleased,
but really
she was a prisoner
of decisions she made
under the influence of others.
never free, forever chained to the mere
concept of power she can
never have.
she cocked to her head to one side,
and the landscape tilted, trees and dark
houses with bright windows sliding
into deep, shadowed lakes.
control
was something she couldn't live without
yet never possessed.
it fooled her into thinking
she could do whatever she pleased,
but really
she was a prisoner
of decisions she made
under the influence of others.
never free, forever chained to the mere
concept of power she can
never have.
green wellies.
dreamer
he called me
as i trudged across pebble and sand
behind him, placing my
smaller feet in his
larger footsteps
both hands thrust in pockets, head bent
down
against the wind
evening sun blinding
beside me
ankles
sliding
in
one-size-too-big-military-green wellies
back to the car
body in one place
thoughts
in another
dazed, cheeks red from
cold breeze biting
contemplating hot vinegar-and-salt
chips
storing memories of one last day
on the beach.
he called me
as i trudged across pebble and sand
behind him, placing my
smaller feet in his
larger footsteps
both hands thrust in pockets, head bent
down
against the wind
evening sun blinding
beside me
ankles
sliding
in
one-size-too-big-military-green wellies
back to the car
body in one place
thoughts
in another
dazed, cheeks red from
cold breeze biting
contemplating hot vinegar-and-salt
chips
storing memories of one last day
on the beach.
hiding.
like a child, she ran to the edge of the world and stopped.
her silent tears flooded down the winding river, that began
at the top of the mountain.
breathing slowed, pulse drawn out,
beating heart exhausted.
collasping to the floor
sharp pieces of slate, smooth surfaces
beneath her bare, bloody feet
she pulled her knees to her chest
and wept.
long, knotted hair flowing
in the breeze that whispered
secrets, lies, stories, desires,
she didn't want to listen, but
she couldn't help herself.
emerald green eyes glistening
raw hands grasping eachother
guarded and mysterious is she
who fears that they can see
right through to her blistered soul.
her silent tears flooded down the winding river, that began
at the top of the mountain.
breathing slowed, pulse drawn out,
beating heart exhausted.
collasping to the floor
sharp pieces of slate, smooth surfaces
beneath her bare, bloody feet
she pulled her knees to her chest
and wept.
long, knotted hair flowing
in the breeze that whispered
secrets, lies, stories, desires,
she didn't want to listen, but
she couldn't help herself.
emerald green eyes glistening
raw hands grasping eachother
guarded and mysterious is she
who fears that they can see
right through to her blistered soul.
Thursday, 21 October 2010
mock.
his piercing screams echoed off the walls, and filled my heads with thoughts so terrible i could hardly contain my own quiet whimpers of fears. i didn't understand. my sticky sheets clung to my body; i felt trapped and restrained. i could see nothing, only think darkness and hot, heavy air that left me gasping for breath surrounded me. i was very alone.
no child should have to hear their father cry. how could i have known that there was nothing to be afraid of when there was no-one there to comfort me?
i tried to remember his gentle smile. the way he used to wrap his strong arms around me in a loving embrace and then throw me up in the air. he would always make me feel like i could fly, yet never fail to be there to catch me. i could faintly smell his soft, musty scent - so comforting, so safe. yet when i tried to recal his hearty laughter, all i could hear were the tormented groans coming from the room next to mine.
as the tears fall silently down my cheeks, i began to see his shrunken frame lying in his bed. it would be how i would always remember him now. translucent skin stretching over his bones, like butter scraped over too much bread. unshaved beard, like pinpricks on his jaw. arms lying by his side, once powerful yet now weak and feeble. his ribs were vivid and protruding, as if the world was starving him of life. nothing my mother fed him could make his stomach grow large and portly again. and his eyes ... they chilled me inside. so sad, so pathetic. he was ashamed of his illness, distressed at the state he was in. for once, my father could do nothing to help me, to help himself. a sense of hopelessness consumed the atmosphere within my home.
my mother was just as lifeless. she cooked, she cleaned, she took me to school and picked me up. she thought i couldn'e hear the emptiness in her voice. in my mind, i imagined her as a robot, completely void of emotion. one night i heard her sobbing, broken. like me, she ws alone, but there was no way i could reach her. i could only stand and gaze through the glass wall of her grief.
i was so scared. my emotions caused me to shake uncontrollably; there was no i could explain them.
anger at my parents for changing, for leaving me.
guilt for my father's condition. was it my fault? had i done something wrong?
that eveing, lying in the dark, i could feel an overwhelming mixture of sadness and frustration, and lack of control of the changes to my once stable family.
as i began to drift off to sleep, the noises in my father's room slowly fading away i saw a sudden flash of blue light up my room. Then another, accompanied by a wailing siren that made my ears bleed. my father immediatly started to shriek in agony, louder than ever before. the front door opened, and i heard footsteps running up the stairs in time with my frantic heartbeat. i began to panic, bile rising in my throat. i struggled to breathe as my father let out one last scream that sliced into my skin.
silence.
it was over.
i curled tightly into a ball beneath my sticky sheets, encased in the unpenetrable darkness, and let the grief flow from me. my father's pain had ended.
but he had been dead to me for a while.
nothing would ever change that.
no child should have to hear their father cry. how could i have known that there was nothing to be afraid of when there was no-one there to comfort me?
i tried to remember his gentle smile. the way he used to wrap his strong arms around me in a loving embrace and then throw me up in the air. he would always make me feel like i could fly, yet never fail to be there to catch me. i could faintly smell his soft, musty scent - so comforting, so safe. yet when i tried to recal his hearty laughter, all i could hear were the tormented groans coming from the room next to mine.
as the tears fall silently down my cheeks, i began to see his shrunken frame lying in his bed. it would be how i would always remember him now. translucent skin stretching over his bones, like butter scraped over too much bread. unshaved beard, like pinpricks on his jaw. arms lying by his side, once powerful yet now weak and feeble. his ribs were vivid and protruding, as if the world was starving him of life. nothing my mother fed him could make his stomach grow large and portly again. and his eyes ... they chilled me inside. so sad, so pathetic. he was ashamed of his illness, distressed at the state he was in. for once, my father could do nothing to help me, to help himself. a sense of hopelessness consumed the atmosphere within my home.
my mother was just as lifeless. she cooked, she cleaned, she took me to school and picked me up. she thought i couldn'e hear the emptiness in her voice. in my mind, i imagined her as a robot, completely void of emotion. one night i heard her sobbing, broken. like me, she ws alone, but there was no way i could reach her. i could only stand and gaze through the glass wall of her grief.
i was so scared. my emotions caused me to shake uncontrollably; there was no i could explain them.
anger at my parents for changing, for leaving me.
guilt for my father's condition. was it my fault? had i done something wrong?
that eveing, lying in the dark, i could feel an overwhelming mixture of sadness and frustration, and lack of control of the changes to my once stable family.
as i began to drift off to sleep, the noises in my father's room slowly fading away i saw a sudden flash of blue light up my room. Then another, accompanied by a wailing siren that made my ears bleed. my father immediatly started to shriek in agony, louder than ever before. the front door opened, and i heard footsteps running up the stairs in time with my frantic heartbeat. i began to panic, bile rising in my throat. i struggled to breathe as my father let out one last scream that sliced into my skin.
silence.
it was over.
i curled tightly into a ball beneath my sticky sheets, encased in the unpenetrable darkness, and let the grief flow from me. my father's pain had ended.
but he had been dead to me for a while.
nothing would ever change that.
Saturday, 9 October 2010
two halves.
i think my heart is breaking.
i can feel it tearing apart, blood dripping,
beating mercilessly.
throught the whole in my chest, i can see the two halves confused, struggling without eachother, only attached by one feeble tendon that restrains them. they are neither together nor fully apart. not prepared, not able to deal with separation. how will they survive alone? how do they even begin to heal?
i can hear the irregular beat in my ears.
you never know how much you depend on something until it has been ripped to pieces inside you.
with every pulse, pain follows.
its your hands that are tearing, twisting, slicing, pulling, burning, peeling, stabbing, drowning, strangling, suffocating, piercing the halves. they're covered in blood.
i hope it stains them. i hope you can only remove it by licking it off with your cowardly tongue, so you have to taste my agony.
go on, taste it. swallow it. feel it sliding down your throat, being absorbed into your own bloodstream. infecting your ridiculous joke of a body.
do you hate it? does it repulse you? make you sick?
i hope to God it does.
get your filthy hands off my heart.
you have no right.
who do you think you are?
how dare you
get out of my sight.
with every pulse, pain follows.
i think my heart is breaking.
it hurts.
i can feel it tearing apart, blood dripping,
beating mercilessly.
throught the whole in my chest, i can see the two halves confused, struggling without eachother, only attached by one feeble tendon that restrains them. they are neither together nor fully apart. not prepared, not able to deal with separation. how will they survive alone? how do they even begin to heal?
i can hear the irregular beat in my ears.
you never know how much you depend on something until it has been ripped to pieces inside you.
with every pulse, pain follows.
its your hands that are tearing, twisting, slicing, pulling, burning, peeling, stabbing, drowning, strangling, suffocating, piercing the halves. they're covered in blood.
i hope it stains them. i hope you can only remove it by licking it off with your cowardly tongue, so you have to taste my agony.
go on, taste it. swallow it. feel it sliding down your throat, being absorbed into your own bloodstream. infecting your ridiculous joke of a body.
do you hate it? does it repulse you? make you sick?
i hope to God it does.
get your filthy hands off my heart.
you have no right.
who do you think you are?
how dare you
get out of my sight.
with every pulse, pain follows.
i think my heart is breaking.
it hurts.
english revision ... yes, really.
my footsteps hit the rotten ground in perfect rhythm with the sound of my own breathing. like a simple composition, two instruments connecting with eachother, conducted by the continuous beat of my heart. the constant drumming song echoing in my empty soul.
i feel nothing. the endorphins shy away; exhaustion has been and gone. i am past the point of stopping. my surroundings bore me; i can barely make out anything in the thick, unpenetrable darkness. even the stars have left me to my thoughts, yet for once in my life i wish they could save me. from what? my goading conscience? memories best forgotten? there's no use wanting to be saved from the past. i cannot hide, i cannot linger; i'm not brave enough to face the truth. which is why i'm running. my actions have consequences, they will never stop chasing me. like the hounds on a bloodthirsty hunt for the weak, lone fox. i have no choice: i must run.
my arms swing with purpose at my sides. my hands are clenched into fists as if tight ropes bound them in restraint. i bite my lip to numb the pain, resulting in the metallic taste of blood dripping onto my tongue. i fiercly fight back the tears: blink, gulp, blink, gulp. crying is useless, for it simply slows me down. i must keep going. only death can catch me now.
i feel nothing. the endorphins shy away; exhaustion has been and gone. i am past the point of stopping. my surroundings bore me; i can barely make out anything in the thick, unpenetrable darkness. even the stars have left me to my thoughts, yet for once in my life i wish they could save me. from what? my goading conscience? memories best forgotten? there's no use wanting to be saved from the past. i cannot hide, i cannot linger; i'm not brave enough to face the truth. which is why i'm running. my actions have consequences, they will never stop chasing me. like the hounds on a bloodthirsty hunt for the weak, lone fox. i have no choice: i must run.
my arms swing with purpose at my sides. my hands are clenched into fists as if tight ropes bound them in restraint. i bite my lip to numb the pain, resulting in the metallic taste of blood dripping onto my tongue. i fiercly fight back the tears: blink, gulp, blink, gulp. crying is useless, for it simply slows me down. i must keep going. only death can catch me now.
Friday, 8 October 2010
Tuesday, 5 October 2010
expectations.
you expect me to do that? really? who do you think i am?
hold on.
you don't expect me to that for you? of course i would. do you know nothing about me at all?
sometimes i notice that i live my life around other people's expectations of me.
whether thats the expectations they actually place on me, or the ones that i fabricate in my particularly paranoid mind.
they can be whispers, they can be chains. they can drive you to success, or push you further and further into the bitter-tasting ground. so controlling, so manipulative. they've reduced me to tears, caving in on myself, knocking me off my feet. what do i do?
occasionally, i do it so much that i begin to lose sight of myself. of who i really am. i become numb. i will only answer to the people who are most influential and manipulative, and not to myself. i stop trusting myself, my instincts, my ability to act spontaneously without concern for the consequences. don't get me wrong, consequences are more than important. but really? to constantly think about the ifs and buts of life ALL THE TIME just drag you down. trust me. thats not living, thats called waiting.
i don't know what you expect me to say. and for once, i don't care if i'm saying the predictable thing.
putting myself second comes naturally to me. im not proud of it, but its who i am.
this time though, i just can't do it.
i don't have the energy to be that strong. to pretend that well.
and i hope you don't expect me to apologise, because im not going to.
hold on.
you don't expect me to that for you? of course i would. do you know nothing about me at all?
sometimes i notice that i live my life around other people's expectations of me.
whether thats the expectations they actually place on me, or the ones that i fabricate in my particularly paranoid mind.
they can be whispers, they can be chains. they can drive you to success, or push you further and further into the bitter-tasting ground. so controlling, so manipulative. they've reduced me to tears, caving in on myself, knocking me off my feet. what do i do?
occasionally, i do it so much that i begin to lose sight of myself. of who i really am. i become numb. i will only answer to the people who are most influential and manipulative, and not to myself. i stop trusting myself, my instincts, my ability to act spontaneously without concern for the consequences. don't get me wrong, consequences are more than important. but really? to constantly think about the ifs and buts of life ALL THE TIME just drag you down. trust me. thats not living, thats called waiting.
i don't know what you expect me to say. and for once, i don't care if i'm saying the predictable thing.
putting myself second comes naturally to me. im not proud of it, but its who i am.
this time though, i just can't do it.
i don't have the energy to be that strong. to pretend that well.
and i hope you don't expect me to apologise, because im not going to.
Sunday, 3 October 2010
leona ...
so what if it hurts me?
so what if i break down?
so what if this world just throws me off the edge
my feet run out off ground?
i've got to find my place
i want to hear my sound
dont care about all the pain inside of me
because im just trying to be happy.
so what if i break down?
so what if this world just throws me off the edge
my feet run out off ground?
i've got to find my place
i want to hear my sound
dont care about all the pain inside of me
because im just trying to be happy.
Saturday, 2 October 2010
one whole year.
exactly a year gone by.
what do i feel?
regret?
anger?
remorse?
contentment?
peace?
tired.
ive waited for as long as i can
for what i wanted.
and now it is time to stop.
i have a friend
who would wait without fail until death
or some other desire consumed her
for the one she loved.
but thats not me.
because i have tasted my dream
was it worth it?
maybe i'll never know.
now, it is time to say
goodnight.
what do i feel?
regret?
anger?
remorse?
contentment?
peace?
tired.
ive waited for as long as i can
for what i wanted.
and now it is time to stop.
i have a friend
who would wait without fail until death
or some other desire consumed her
for the one she loved.
but thats not me.
because i have tasted my dream
was it worth it?
maybe i'll never know.
now, it is time to say
goodnight.
certain films have an effect on me sometimes.
a man and his son are running for a bus. they're broke and desperate; they can't bare to spend another night sleeping in a locked public toilet. if they miss this bus, the chance for a safe place to rest tonite will be gone.
the bus is about to leave. the man takes his six-year old son's hand and begins to yell in order to get the driver's attention. amidst the panic, the confused little boy drops his only possesion: a Captain America action figure. this toy is his one friend in the world. it reminds him of the home and the mother he used to have. besides his father, the toy is the only thing he trusts.
he pulls at his father's grasp and cries out, terrified of leaving his friend behind. however the bus is pulling away, and ignoring his son's protests, resorts to dragging him across the road. just in time, the driver sees them and opens the rusty doors. the man sighs with immense relief as the thought of the night in a secure place to stay comes back into focus. yet when he looks down at his son, he sees fresh, silent tears running down his cheeks.
following the boy's hopeless gaze, and outstretched hand, he spots a familiar action figure lying on its side in the road, abandoned. so quiet in his despair, the boy takes his father's hand and sobs into the sleeve of his suit. he understands why he had to leave his friend behind, but he can't help grieving. the boy will never seen his toy again.
how could something so precious be left behind and never returned to? why do the most devasting occurences usually happen in a matter of a seconds? such an impact deserves more time; even the little things like leaving a beloved toy lying in the road.
it makes me want to claw my stomach out.
the bus is about to leave. the man takes his six-year old son's hand and begins to yell in order to get the driver's attention. amidst the panic, the confused little boy drops his only possesion: a Captain America action figure. this toy is his one friend in the world. it reminds him of the home and the mother he used to have. besides his father, the toy is the only thing he trusts.
he pulls at his father's grasp and cries out, terrified of leaving his friend behind. however the bus is pulling away, and ignoring his son's protests, resorts to dragging him across the road. just in time, the driver sees them and opens the rusty doors. the man sighs with immense relief as the thought of the night in a secure place to stay comes back into focus. yet when he looks down at his son, he sees fresh, silent tears running down his cheeks.
following the boy's hopeless gaze, and outstretched hand, he spots a familiar action figure lying on its side in the road, abandoned. so quiet in his despair, the boy takes his father's hand and sobs into the sleeve of his suit. he understands why he had to leave his friend behind, but he can't help grieving. the boy will never seen his toy again.
how could something so precious be left behind and never returned to? why do the most devasting occurences usually happen in a matter of a seconds? such an impact deserves more time; even the little things like leaving a beloved toy lying in the road.
it makes me want to claw my stomach out.
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