Such indescribable delight,
When sound and subtle petrichor
Anounce outside window and door,
Rainfall decorating dust.
Such indescribable delight,
When sound and subtle petrichor
Anounce outside window and door,
Rainfall decorating dust.
You gave me a lengthy look,
And then you took
But hey, that’s OK.
Then before I knew, I fell,
And you showed me hell,
And that was ok too.
One or the other, I’ll acclimatize.
Learn to balance, to be wise,
But only one.
I never know, if I’ll stay or when I’ll go.
Tied to this piece of string
Of a child,
Whose temperament goes wild.
Unable to control
My yoyo. So,
I never know, when I’ll stay or if I’ll go
Up or Down.
And bouncing in between,
Never finding my feet,
Is a sickening carnival ride
That’s strangely incomplete.
To have one or the other,
Or sometimes both, confusing,
Too much emotional bruising.
The reverse of a junkie
Wanting their next fix.
Not me, no, no, not me,
I don’t want, I don’t want,
I don’t want it.
What if I find that I just can’t take,
I can’t stand any more and I finally break?
My mind to my Wonderland then take,
Put a ‘vacancy’ sign on my forehead,
Sit by the marshmallow lake.
Well we always knew I was crazy,
It was never a question of maybe.
Now all they ever ask of me:
“At this very moment, what is she?”
Eminently awkward in prosaic propensity, even explicit explanations end entwined in endless enigma.
I speak such phrases that resound in silver clarion within my eyes and mind, yet return to me merely distorted echoes of confusion and poor Chinese Whispers of misunderstood riddles.
I am a stranger in this world and speak no part of any language I encounter.
And I do not understand.
This is me, starting a conversation.
This is me, screaming in your face.
This is me, begging for help.
This is me, bleeding before you.
Where art thou Morpheus?
I seek Lethe and no other,
Protection from Thanatos
Rivers five, so similar,
I may confuse
And in my earnest haste for
Poorly to my dismay.
So for the briefest moment,
Guide my way.
Clutch’d tight is my
Fare for the ferryman….
Just like that,
Lost amongst the names,
Labels, and designations,
Unable to tell which parts
Of herself were herself,
She snapped her pencil in two.
And like the pencil,
Broke in half her sanity,
Ability to care.
I’m riding my old bike again.
It was only a matter of time I suppose.
I ride it around every place that I go,
Sometimes quite quickly, other times slow,
And it’s hard to get up those steep hills don’t you know,
But when I go down, just look at me go.
Yeah, rapid cycling.
Don’t you think it’s strange
How we shift, change, rearrange,
Everything we can, but stay the same?
How each of us ourselves behoove
To grow, move, further improve,
Strive and strive, yet we never arrive.
We tell ourselves that all our pain
Is part of life, to strain and gain,
How accepting we all are.
Before we grow too old,
Grow cold, end stuck in a mold,
Are we able to break free?
Well to show you that I can:
I just rhymed carrot
a creative writing exercise..
‘Do you suppose, Chesh, that sometimes fish are people too?’
Alice threw another apple into the pond, gazing absently at the resulting microcosm of radiating waves.
She looked over at the Cheshire Cat, who had been asleep underneath a nearby tree for most of the afternoon.
‘And they say there’s no such thing as a stupid question..’, the cat yawned lazily, before promptly returning to what appeared to be an attempt to sleep soundly through the entire day.
Alice shrugged. It didn’t matter if no one was listening.
Picking up a nearby apple, she nibbled it as she continued her thought.
‘What I mean to say is…’, she said ‘do you wonder if fish sometimes wish to be someone else?’
‘It seems normal, when feeling awfully rotten, to wish you were somewhere else, or rather, some one else. For me anyway.’
She scrunched up her face as the strong memory of doing just such a thing swept over her..
‘But.. If I were somewhere else, I would still be myself, simply in a different place, and well, I don’t think that’s the problem in this case. As they say, wherever you go, there you are.’
She eyed the apple she was holding, inspecting it for rot, before hurling it violently into the pond, where it floated, bobbing about with the others.
‘So if I were to be someone else, I would most likely be somewhere else as well, otherwise there wouldn’t be much room where I am standing.’
She looked down thoughtfully, then took a step to the side, just in case.
‘Two pigeons on the other side of the fence’. She laid a finger alongside her nose knowingly.
‘That being the case, if I were to be someone else, it wouldn’t be very long before that someone was me anyway.’ She counted on her fingers, trying to work out how to calculate ‘instantaneously’.
‘Not veryyyy long, anyhow’. She scratched her nose.
‘And me, myself, as someone else, would, with my luck, be just as unhappy and just as likely to be someone who wishes they were someone else as well!
No, that just won’t do’.
She cast her eye over the fallen fruit, looking for a likely candidate.
‘I suppose, when you look at it contrarywise , it’s more a case of wishing not to be myself, or be anyone really, rather than wanting to be another me.
Is it such a preposterous proposition to ponder that a fish may well wish to be other than its own woeful watery self?’
She gathered a few of the ripest apples on offer.
“To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core…’, she quoted absently.
‘What if EVERYONE EVERYWHERE feels this way!?’. She her eyes unfocused, and she felt almost insulted by the notion.
‘What if all this time, not a soul has been happy being themselves, and JUST PRETENDING!’.
She stamped her foot! To imagine! The sheer nerve of them!
Her brow furrowed, she was down to the mystery now.
So…everyone that smiles, and says ‘as you please’, and tells you to behave, and not to rub apricot jam on your baby brother, why they just did it so that…that..so that you’d do the same!
She knew it!
‘It’s all a cabin-ski’ She announced uncertainty.
‘Regardless, if no one wants to be themselves, and it seems I was right about that, and everyone is all full up anyhow, no vacancies, then what am I to do’?
Alice sank to the ground and buried her hands in the cool soil, surrounded by apple trees and the buzzing of industrious bees.
‘I can’t stand it, Chesh’, her voice was barely a whisper. ‘The endless…me’.
Nothing is here that wants to be here. Nothing should be here.
I’m not particularly fond of anything I find, inside or out.
The world is like a washed out water painting, and the only things that bear upon me to take notice, oh, they hurt, Cat, they hurt so much’.
She blinked, then laughed, a bleeding, savage laugh.
‘I can’t even cry. There’s not even that now!’
She got up, two ripening weapons of choice in hand, and walked towards the pond.
‘I’m stuck inside myself, with nothing, not even hate! And surrounded by liars and fakers’.
‘HATE! FAKERS! LIARS!’
Then, ‘SPINACH!’, just for good measure.
She spun furiously, sliding the apple at the water, imagining it to be a rock that would smash into the surface.
‘Splosh’. It somewhat anticlimactically joined the rest.
Alice stood on the edge of the water, and stared at the moving trails of light sliding over the deep water.
She swayed slightly as she recited;
“…Like as the waves make towards the pebb’d shore,
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing place with that which goes before..”
‘Can’t be me. Can’t be not-me. Why be anything at all?’, Alice muttered to herself, mezmerized by the water.
”Oh Alice, look what you’ve done!”, they’ll say, and take my things away again…They took that mirror away soon enough, after things got bloody, but I kept telling them, it was HER, not me’.
‘I should just throw myself into the pond!’, she DECLARED,
‘Better to be nothing on purpose than nothing because of some STUPID COSMIC JOKE’, she shrieked!
She stared at the water, watching as it rocked gently back and forth, thinking it seemed calm and deep, somewhere she could sleep.
‘Well, on second thought’, she said, biting into her apple.
‘I’d better not disturb the fish. You never know if fish might be people too’.
When I was quite young,
Only a pup,
People would ask me
When I grew up,
What would I be?
Where would I go?
I had an idea,
Didn’t quite know.
But it wasn’t this.
It was never this.
I’m on my way down,
A slow and broken sinking.
Watch me as I drown
In the depths of overthinking.
Silver kisses touch on skin,
Exquisitely and softly.
Touch, but delve so deeply in.
So very costly.
Crimson roses blossom out,
Nourished from within.
Bright red petals forming
Morbid fractals on my skin.
I wonder how many flowers
Are left within to see..
Or if you ever drowned
Inside your mind like me..
But I’m nonetheless eloquent,
So hand me a cigarette.
Don’t do no crystal,
Anyways least not yet.
Right about now
I’m as fucked-up as ima get.
Seems so pathetic,
Seems so unreal.
To relax, I need my brain
In my beautiful madness,
I tear gods down.
In my terrible sadness,
I tear myself down.
I gave the doctor all the pieces of my mind,
Hardly an undivulged thought left behind.
‘Oh Alice my dear, this simply won’t do.
I’ll tell you what’s what, for I’m smarter than you’.
And he smiled as he tore away all that I’d said,
I felt sick as he planted his thoughts in my head.
For I’d said what I thought, and I’d thought what I said,
But now he thought to think my thoughts for myself instead.
He said ‘things might get sad and I’ll tell you why:
I’m afraid the Alice you know, now has to die.
I’ll give you some tablets, take one every day,
And soon you’ll find that this Alice has faded away.
And then you’ll be cured! Shiny and new!
A whole brand new person. Though I couldn’t say who.
“Imagine you were dying.
Imagine you were afraid and a long way from home in terrible pain.
Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, you looked up and saw the face of the Devil himself.”
- Doctor Who : Season 06.Episode 13
The orange light of a life, burning.
That scarlet spark.
Your perfect moment on the ledge.
You lied to keep me in thrall,
To give us another day without sorrow.
But I smell tangerines..
If I write things for myself,
And I like what I have writ,
But hating myself wholly
Is, I must admit,
A fundamental part of me,
At least the largest bit.
Reason and logic would therefore dictate,
That anything I ever write or create,
Is something I should hate..
I wish I didn’t have to,
But I wish that I could prove
I’m not some social label
You can just stick on,
Or simply remove.
Don’t you see?
My diagnosis isn’t me.
I’m not pills inside a bottle
Or high upon a shelf.
I never hurt nobody,
I would rather hurt myself.
No one understands me,
But that’s no big surprise.
Claiming to know someone’s soul
Is only telling lies
True, it isn’t easy,
Sometimes it’s bloody tough,
You have dig below the surface
To find diamonds in the rough.
I’m so exquisitely fucked up, it’s true.
But probably no more than you.
As children we were taught
That god in heaven thought
We all should drown.
Everyone should drown?
Well listen to that sound:
That’s me drowning now.
Later they would tell
Of heaven and of hell.
How to find The Right Gate.
Well they’re far too late,
Maybe you can’t tell
But I already found hell.
I didn’t need to wait.
As for gods’ only son
Dying for our sinning..
I may not have been sinning,
But baby, this is me beginning.
Been standing on street corners
And bridges high.
Staring at the clouds.
Been waiting on tall buildings
And railway lines
All over town.
I admit it’s not much of a plan.
But I’m seeking Superman.
Someone said he left for good,
Others said he died.
I really hope that’s not the case,
That he just partially retired.
I’d like to meet him face to face,
I really need to be inspired.
Seems all I’m left with are
Tied tightly to the end of
In the shape of a hangman’s noose.
I’ve practised the knot at least
No way it will ever come loose.
I just need to find Superman.
I don’t expect to him to save me,
And I doubt that he knows how.
I just wanted to say hi,
Maybe ask if he could fly
Me to the edge of space,
To see the earth from a better place.
I don’t like the view down here.
So I’m waiting near phonebooths
And plane wrecks,
So far there’s nothing to see.
Maybe I’ll become a Crime Lord,
And then he’ll come looking for me.
I can tell by your tone
There’ll be no picket fence.
You try for casual discourses,
But I just hear King’s Horses
My only defense
Against all your King’s Men.
I saw that wall,
From which no one could fall,
There’s yolk on your hand,
For somebody planned
The whole thing you see.
Humpty was pushed.
And now you plan to push me.
Oh no, is Alice insane?
Has she gone off,
Or taken too many,
Of her massive number of tablets again?
Look at them lovingly lined up in rows,
So many highs and so many lows,
Looking like Skittles,
No taste of rainbows.
What was that thing that she said?
There’s too much space inside of her head
Filled up with noisy silence?
With too much peaceful violence?
It’s so tiring, trying, falling, failing,
Draining to seem normal now.
They say ‘don’t try to be normal then’.
But if now is then, then where and when
Should I cease to cease being social again?
Don’t compare me.
I only compare myself,
Not to looks or wealth,
But to how many dues you have to pay
Just to live through every day.
Alice sat weeping,
Compelled to climb.
Emotions complicated, and
Not nearly enough cake.
Now was bleeding.
Skin from hands and knees amiss,
For every single day
She was forced to do this:
Climb the winding stair.
Scaling heights oft tall,
Stairs constantly collapsing,
And down, down she’d fall,
In a violent, painful tumble.
Always the choice to remake:
Lie in a heap forever and ever,
Or clamber to her feet
To repeat the endeavour.
After a lifetime, she stood.
Bits of broken me lie upon the loungeroom floor,
Kinda hoping I’ll get stepped on.
No-one even asks about the sugar in my coffee,
One lump or two, I wish they’d say.
It’s just a short train ride to down,
Thought I’d spend the night,
Or maybe go insane for the weekend.
Twisted sheets and I’m so tired,
My face hurts when I fake a smile.
I wish that I could fall asleep
For just a little while.
Passing hour seventy-two,
My mind has come undone.
I don’t know what I should do,
I can’t stand anyone.
My thoughts become disjointed now,
They make no sense at all.
A thousand whirling whispers
Like wind blown leaves in Fall.
Now I’ve started seeing
Things that can’t be real.
Things that cease to bother,
I no longer care or feel.
Well, the drugs don’t work,
I hear they make you worse,
Although I may well have
Hallucinated that whole verse.
My soul aches, my mind breaks.
I’m sounding like a Beatles’ song.
How long until I go insane?
I’m sure it won’t be long..
I always thought you understood
The twists inside my head.
Not as a navigator would,
But sort of where they led.
But now I see that all the while,
You drank their Kool-Aid too,
And kept behind your plastic smile,
Things I never knew you never knew.
Now you look at me as they do,
It empties out my chest.
The one who hasn’t got a clue,
Should have known me best.
Give a cry!
Life passing by
At a startling rate!
Another year wasted.
So much untasted.
Salute the disgrace &
Let’s get shit face-d.
Hear the beat of
The Doom Drum,
And dread the
Year to Come.
The sky held such a vast array of blues,
Until you cut open my universe
And took out all the hues?
My heart held so much trust,
Until you emptied out my chest
And filled the cavity with dust?
I should have known it too.
That you kept track all along ,
To whom everything belonged.
Now I know too.
Cos I’d been thinking this whole time,
In words like ‘us’ and ‘ours’,
Now reduced to merely ‘mine’.
“Real relationships don’t break up,
They break down.”
These cooling cups of tea
Bring darker thoughts instead,
Of empty eyes
And lukewarm baths,
Filled with swirling red.
Of the slow drip-dripping
Onto a tiled floor.
Alongside all these feelings
That have no metaphor.
No way to describe..
Being dead inside.
I gave you my love, I’m sure that’s right,
But your disregard came sealed up tight
In tiny bottles, labels white,
Saying ‘drink me’.
I trusted you then,
When I was stronger and taller,
But each dose you gave
Only made me feel smaller.
I took your ‘drink me’ every day,
’til I was so small,
I just faded away..
I could walk into the ocean
And swallow it all down.
Yet never drown.
Such emptiness within abides,
Ne’er filled or shape descried
By endless changing tides.
A thousand suns devoured,
Galaxies all scoured,
To universes’ end and back,
Would not fill what I lack.
I give my fiercest scowl,
Take stance like I’ll stay put.
But I am made of paper,
Naught but matches underfoot.
If a girl screams in the forest,
With no-one else around,
Does she make a sound?
If no-one sees her body fall,
Does she hit the ground?
If she loses all her bearings
Does she still feel down?
If she’s flooded by emotion
Do you think she’ll drown?
I don’t want very much.
Not too much.
Always something I can’t touch.
Wish to touch.
Just a normal life and such.
Not too much..
Peculiar how our mutual plight
Of the helpful things to do,
Became a competition and a wedge
Between me and they and you.
Everyone knows best,
No arguments allowed.
Just you and your ego
Because three’s a crowd.
No single pathway to the end,
I’m sure there’s quite a few,
But unless I’m just a moral clone,
Who cares what others do?
Everyone needs validation,
The fight for higher ground.
Common sense goes on vacation,
The world burns to the ground.
Genetically modified veganism,
Antivaxers and egotism
Sadistic female circumcision,
Innocents are sent to prison.
So let’s sit and debate about
Who is most insulted.
And those of us who dare protest
Will surely be assaulted.
So fuck all of this black and white,
And who is more correct than right.
The first thing they should teach in class
Is how to get your head out of your ass.
Today is an endless field
Of mud and broken stone.
Beneath an uncaring sky,
I am alone.
In my hand a jagged flint
Wet with blood and dew.
I think I killed my final friend.
I think she killed me too.
Selfish genes and viral memes,
Evolutionary replication machines.
Can we decide that we want to be more,
Or are we defined by what came before?
How much choice is ours to make?
How much part does genetics take?
Are we the sum of our parts,
Or just some of our parts?
Small snow white
Gave me a blanket unfurled.
I wrapped myself inside,
Safe and warm from the world.
I stayed there for the afternoon,
Cosy inside my chemical room.
I think you know the one I mean:
I died a little more today,
A smile on my face,
Nothing seeming out of place
Secretly not ok.
Part of my insides withered away,
While grinning all the time,
Just pretending that I’m fine,
Secretly not ok.
No I can’t come out to play,
I need a place to hide,
Somewhere I can die inside,
Secretly not ok.
Daughter of Autumn
Entered the lake.
No ripple in wake.
Nightgown tied tightly
To a lifetime of sorrow,
To rocks and stones, and
A book she had borrowed.
She whimsically wished
There were waterlillies.
Icy water passed over her chin.
Gave herself into the water..
Cries no more, Autumn’s Daughter.
Got my pockets full-up
For a firefly summer.
Treats to attract tiny
Not every chocolate bar
Will be so sacrificial.
Get me through the day.
Stained brown pockets and a
Been left out with the trash,
But what else could I do?
I’m filled with the hate
I keep getting from you.
You keep disregarding and
Discarding my dreams,
Yet you’re still blind that
I’m torn at the seams.
You fill me with waste,
Don’t even know what you’ve done.
And the more you force in,
The less I become.
Now it’s so toxic,
Everything that you do,
You can’t even see
You’ve made me toxic too.
So I’m here with the waste,
Nothing else I can do,
I’m so full inside, but
I’m so empty too.
I despise this
I don’t want it,
Yet no one will ever
Wrest it from
Neither can I cast it off.
I smelled her before I heard her.
The smell of ozone, and freshly cut grass.
She stood quietly behind me, watching as I teetered along the edge of the rooftop, eyes squeezed shut, singing as gleefuly and loudly as I was able;
“Singin’ Radiohead at the top of our lungs,
With the boom box blaring as … ”
I stopped, thought for a moment, then spun neatly on one foot to face her.
“Do you suppose”, I pondered aloud, “That p’raps I should be singing Radiohead at the top of my lungs, instead of singing at the top of my lungs about singing Radiohead at the top of my lungs?
It hardly makes much sense to sing about singing about something, when one may just as well sing it to begin with!”.
I nodded, satisfied, as I wobbled slightly on the narrow ledge. It was perfectly marvelous logic.
“Alice”, she said gently “It’s time to come down.”
“It’s alright”, I waved my hand around like a proud performer, “I shan’t fall off, its…at least somewhat partially safe”.
She looked at me reproachfully; “You know what I mean, Alice.”
I pouted. I knew exactly what she meant.
“I’m sure no one would mind if I stayed a little longer…”
“You’ve been up for over two weeks now”.
It sounded accusatory.
“Yes! Two glorious weeks up!”
I grinned. “It’s been simply wonderous”.
She frowned at me. “Alice. You know how this works.”
“Fine. It was getting boring anyhow”, I lied.
It was never boring.
I stepped down onto the roof as she held out her hands.
Coated in the blackest of black.
Blackness so dark it was more like an absence of light than a physical substance.
She look at me with a strangely sad expression.
“Brace yourself Alice, I’m afraid this one is going to leave a mark.”
She leaned forward and put her hands inside my head…
Across the table, my mother looked up from her dinner plate.
“Did you say something, honey?
I thought my house
Would stand against the storm.
That I could weather,
Yet not be worn.
But now I’m deconstructing.
Brick by brick
I’ll be gone.
So I killed a girl.
Gave her medication
And a grey, grey world.
Now she’s one of the walking dead,
Echoes of emptiness
Filling her head.
I come across her everyday
In reflections I chance to see.
She just won’t leave or go away..
Because she’s me.
She smiled, and gestured to the bottle.
‘So, would you say the bottle is half full?
Or half empty?’
‘You drank my juice again’.
Confessions of crystalline aches.
Bends, breaks, mistakes.
An icy affinity for cracking.
Wrote heartbroken hands
‘I have darkness’.
They found her broken letters and verse,
Ending with the trembling words
Writ in blood-stained ink: ‘I am lacking’.
Dressed the dawn
In splendour, added
Highlights to her hair.
Spread her gown across the land,
Became the day.
Jump on in.
Did you think this time
You would finally swim?
Sink on down.
Just like the last time,
You’re going to drown.
The sea’s too wide.
You know you can’t make it,
You’ve already tried.
Run and hide.
One day you’ll realise
You’ve already died.
A little sugar please,
In the coffee of my days.
They are unsweetened, black,
And full of malaise.
Just a spoonful of honey
To lighten the taste,
Of endless afternoons
Going to waste.
I’m only a bit of a failure,
But failure is failure you see,
The way any size hole is a hole,
The way that I’m always me.
And I’m only a little messed up,
The way rain is a little bit wet,
And I’m only a little bit better,
But I’m not very better yet.
A little bit broken is broken,
How long is a piece of string?
A little bit crazy is crazy, and
I’m a little bit everything.
Morning finds me seated
Upon the stair in soft repose,
And so remain unmoving
To bide the time from whence I rose,
There to await the days’ fickle pleasure.
Today is still an ocean,
Depression, Sirens’ song.
Although I’m holding to the mast,
I’ve never been that strong.
My strength is fading quickly,
My grip is growing weak,
All the crew just stand aside
And watch me, super-freak.
Always feeling like an outcast
Makes me wonder why I struggle.
So much for my ocean,
I think I’m drowning in a puddle.
I wake up every morning,
And I get up just because.
Each time, I am something less
Than something that I was.
My fingers’, cut and bleeding
From picking off the floor,
Tiny broken splinters
Of what I was before.
Days of endless madness
Hardly knowing what I do.
Sudden chills of horror
When I realize what is true.
My mind is like the construct
The poet Yeats foretold:
‘Things fall apart;
the centre cannot hold’.
I am not myself, several times a day,
If you’ve never felt like this,
You may think that’s ok.
But I’ve got a feeling,
This will never change.
How many times in a day
Can sanity rearrange?
Because I’ve got a feeling,
It’s too much to take.
There’s only so many times it bends
Before the willow breaks.
The fall of darkness finds
Everyone judged, sleeping in sheets
Of dishonest dreams and cool disdain.
You said you drew night nearer
Because it’s that dark endless piece,
The one from the edge of the world,
Beyond where sanity lies.
I have too many empty chairs,
Empty coffee cups,
The aching feeling no one cares,
Just empty hallways, empty stairs.
There are too many empty places,
Where there should be faces,
Nothing but the faintest traces,
Faded postcards, old suitcases.
No one calling on the phone,
No one asking
If I’m home.
Just an endless dial tone
The universe is out my window,
The stars all shine and the moon hangs low,
And I wonder where the parts of me go,
When I’m not myself, the self I know.
When I’m busy being someone different,
Parts of me wonder where parts of me went,
Where was myself for the time that I spent
No longer at home, not paying the rent?
So while myself was out to play,
I sat and idled my time away,
Where I went I cannot say,
I hope I had a pleasant day.
And now myself is home again,
I’ve been here since who knows when,
Where will I be in the end?
If I find out, I’ll tell you then.
I attempted to be strong,
And though pain can make you stronger,
Strength fades in the end,
And I simply can’t pretend
We hide from ourselves
As best we may,
And I always thought I could,
Until my trees became my wood,
And I lost my way.
I’m lost and afraid,
And it hurts not to show,
But as hard as I try
I can’t see the sky,
And there’s nowhere for me to go.
It’s ironic, in the end,
That I should be the one,
Thinking I was stronger,
Who just ran so much longer,
When there was nowhere left to run.
Today is an ocean,
Declared freshly formed
By the clocks’ relentless rotation,
Yet already I drown.
Dragged under by possibilities.
Some already lost,
Others to be found,
All of them are heavy,
And this ship is going down.
Tonight is a bad night.
Sick with the certainty that the stars are going out, and that my life will never be anything more than broken and empty, I feel small.
Small and alone.
Though somehow I feel even smaller on the inside.
Cliches pour through my mind like so much teenage chatter on a bus, and I want to scream at them to ‘like, shut up, like’.
It’s freezing, freezing, freezing, yet in nothing but a t-shirt I burn as if possessed with a fatal fever, both hot and cold.
In the corner of my eyes, or maybe just the corner of my mind, the laughter of shadows dance and disappear.
Infinitely tired, but I will not sleep.
Exhausted and spent, yet I pace and fidget, twitch and move constantly in restless indignation.
How such a large and empty house can press so closely upon me, to push in upon my mind, yet echo endlessly with unsettling sounds, escapes my understanding.
So strange to wish for nothing but tears, yet neither will I cry.
Every misery, imagined and remembered, plays endlessly on repeat on the iMax of my mental cinema.
A solo screening.