drawing words.

love affair with the moon.

the moon was low in the sky tonight. i've never seen him like that before ... so huge and beautiful, as if he ruled both land and sky, balancing on the horizon amidst the darkness. i felt completely in awe of him. a silent awe, a respectful sense of .. wow.

i've always had a love affair with the moon. it must be so lonely up there, suspended in space, with only your own thoughts for amusement. he must stare endlessly at us,
watching each night as lights blink on and off,
and eyes close.

he is the end of the day, a peaceful reminder of rest.
a reassuring light when everything turns dark.

he is humble, no match against the overwhelming sun, but he doesn't mind. he sits there -
whole, half, cresent, quiet,
observing.

i feel safe when the moon shines, walking in the his silver rays.
i am protected from what i cannot see beside me.

and this evening, as his usual presence grew,
and maybe expressed a little of his exuberant side as he glowed a perfect gold,
i thanked him for his honesty, his patience. for listening to me from time to time.

for keeping me safe, never failing to be there, even when it appears that he had left,
and a shadow formed in his place.

so, here's to the moon. let me know if you ever need any company.

you, the spider, continued.

i twist and turn, struggling against the slow spin of the thin, coarse ropes embedded with your subtle seduction.
you push me, poke me, choke me; one stroke of my spine and your poison paralyses my unsuspecting senses.

then you discard me, throw me aside, and leaving me spinning, sobbing in the dark.
every time i fall for it, my feeble wings trapped beneath the intoxication of false hope.

i know that i should, at every chance, break free from love's lethal clutches.

yet i cannot leave, for your scent and touch are like the release of heroin flooding through my craving bloodstream.

once again, i am tangled in the threads of your dangerous affection, but this time i am a chained prisoner of my own fatal choices.

surrender.

i know who i am, but sometimes it made me sad.
i recognise my reflection in the windows i pass, but sometimes it startled me.


without seeing my appearance staring back from the glass, i can be happy.
she lives in another world, far from my reality.
strength was once the highest thing i valued in myself,
the one thing i yearned to have, just to please the girl trapped in the mirror.
now i understand that my weaknesses form my soul,
not the strengths that undermine my emotions
and gave that girl power to consume my defenceless mind.


i can fall back into space,
and not care if the holes in the net are larger than my fragile body.
it'll catch me when it's ready.
vulnerable and weak as i am,
for now, i think i'll just close my eyes,
and keep falling through the skies
of my small world.

every time.

round leather ball
flying through the air
i shoot; i fail.

sweat dripping
clothes sticking
i shoot; i fail.

shivering, surrounded by
heavy breath, humid, stale
i shoot; i fail.

spirits sinking
head pounding
i shoot; i fail.

lights fading
people screaming
i shoot; i fail.

perseverance
sneering conscience
i shoot; i fail.

consolations
confrontations
i shoot; i fail.
every time.

seconds, minutes, hours.

cold, blank, silent; i try not to falter in front of you. how much things have changed.

i want you to know what's going on in my mind. i want you to see how i'm breaking into pieces inside. but i can't let you through, because i don't want to need you again. despite what i said, you have become like everyone else, stuck behind the dam that prevents me from pouring out my soul.

i can't physically speak. i flick through the usual excuses, realise that they have no effect on your merciless attacks, and just say nothing. bile in my throat, the barricade rises, stopping the flow of words. the flow of tears.

it takes weeks, months, years to build up trust.
only seconds, minutes, hours to knock it down.

cutlery draw.

a second of time stops
a gasp escapes
blood spills
bile rises, tears sting
of all the knives to choose from
you know
without knowing
which blades are sharpest
to penetrate my
unsuspecting flesh

backing away
arms reeling
hiding from the pain
nobody has noticed
the intensity of your intimacy
or my cloak of cold humiliation

lock bolted
body slammed against
smooth, wet tile
liquid luck transforming into
preying shadows
cowering, shivering, clutching
my wretched soul
beg for mercy
please
don't let that agony
drag me into bitter darkness again.

sleep.

i exchanged last pleasantries and bid quick fair-wells
close the door hastily
i sigh of relief escapes as the wood clicks into place
eager to finish the day.

shredding material as i clambered over
books, bags, forms, papers
earlier discarded on the carpet floor
it might swallow them one day,
i assure myself.

curtains drawn in one swift flick
hiding the light
darkness consumes me
finally, i am exposed.

sliding beneath the warmth
soft skin-to-blue contact
in seconds, i am calm
overwhelmed in tranquillity.

needing to be saved
chest, shoulders, head immersed
knees tucked into body
arms wrapped tightly
foetal; barely human
am i at an end, or
a beginning?

eventually, stillness prevails
thoughts cease, a peaceful
answer dropped like blanket
over my mind

rest has come.

i had an impulse to post this.
it made me stop and think about that brief
moment in time each day
my favourite part.
our minds stop talking to us
and we just
see, feel, believe.

you, the spider.

gazing at your work of art:
a spider's web, beautiful,
glistening in the silver light of the subtle lampost, standing alone in a dark street,
so alike the moon rays that we flourish beneath,
almost hidden in the mist.

like a fly, a fool, i've stumbled blindly into your trap again.

doomed i may be, still i admire your perfect creation,
tangled in the threads of your dangerous affection.