Monday, 18 August 2014

Clouds / Why On Earth Are You Still Awake Samuel ?

March 2013.
Finally I come to the time I can sleep, but I cannot. After seven days working in a row. Deliriously heating milk too hot...drinking far too much espresso...wishing I was Samuel L Jackson...
Now, tired as fuck I sit half watching Lord of the Rings wondering what the fuck I'll do next with my life. I try not to search too deeply, get too intense. brushing over what still must be brushed over.
How long will I keep doing that? Not dealing with what I guess...I must...eventually. At some point.
Do I? Maybe I can just sweep it away, pretend it never happened. Stop going over every stupid detail.
Forget his face. Forget his voice. Lose it somehow. Lose myself.
I have always been so good. Tried so hard to be everything to everyone that they could need. I wonder what it is I have missed by being this way. Living like a shadow. Pretending that nothing ever hurts. Nothing really matters... When the opposite is only ever the truth.
I'm alone. And it's too comfortable. Too easy to stay like this. Moving undetectably through in this strange cloud of outward silence. I don't want to look- for I do not want to see.
...see, delirious.... Perhaps it's the full moon....
 

Monday, 7 July 2014

Learn/Let Go.

Lover,
If you won't love me someone else will.
My Mind, and then my body I'll set free.
I will not miss your lips, your hands
They were never mine.
All the falsehoods,...broken plans.
The promises you never had to make.
Lover, if you won't love me
Someone else will.
I'll remove this leash
That I tied tight around my heart.
I wonder why I tried so hard
To keep you,
My body, and then my mind
Told me, I should go.
As I lay next to your sleeping figure
Wondering upon the distance.
All I ever felt was the emptiness of us,
This chlling cold.
You watched me as I fell
Fell for you.
And the callousness is,
That you could have stopped me,
When I gave you the chance
To let me go.





Thursday, 3 July 2014

Concentric Circles.

 This trend, for living in a way that suggests you do not feel "too much"...Just enough to let everyone know you are doing just fine, that your life is "awesome"... That everything is exciting and underwhelming all at once. Never admitting to being completely consumed by a thing, a person, a flock of birds...a fucking flower...The way a man stands looking so content with his eyes closed beneath the sun as he steps out from his office at the end of the day.... just standing, briefcase in hand. The light and calm smoothing his wrinkled face, turning him into a boy. His peace fed my peace. Little drops of joy filtering through the air, in all it's beautiful simplicity. All consuming.
Everyone seems to want, want everything with no patience. People meet, and the expection seems to be that something must be wrong with you if you do not wish to give up your body without first wanting to establish their interest in your soul. It is all skin, but no bones. And of no fucking interest to me. 
I want guts, I want the fleshy beautiful awkward ugliness we all carry within us. I do not wish to make idle chat, unless there is some other substance. My nonsense if more precious to me than my honesty...I'd rather my silence and solitude. Loneliness lives more in the empty exchanges; the encounters that you do not wish to admit mean more than you feel safe to say. Because,...what is this game? this game of who can appear to care the least?
Swallowing up exciting emotions, and reading between every line of a simple text to decipher hidden meanings...To decide what it is you should say next, how much of yourself it is safe to give. How much the other person wants.
Peace, I see where it exists. The things that obstruct it, they are what should be simple. What can be simple. Honesty. my obsession with it has somehow freed me. I seek it out, I register the tiny lies that people tell and wonder if they realise how amusing it is that they cannot just tell the truth. Questioning why things appear more complex than they need be, because they must remember all their little tales at every turn. 
Promises should be meant, words should be said not simply to be beautiful...or to make someone drop their guard (or indeed their pants) so you can ravage them. Cruelty is cruelty no matter how pretty it sounds or appears. No, no...this trend for being less. feeling less, being so laid back even about important things...it can fuck right off, I will have nothing to do with it. I would rather be awkward, rather be "intense" rather be so overly sensitive that I sniffle a little at the smallest suggestion of pure emotion. We are all inter-connected, I will put my heart into everything I do. Feed love through the cracks. Because it is limitless, and everyone needs it. 
 

 

Thursday, 19 June 2014

Let's close the curtains, shut the world out for a time.

I had not left the flat for three days. My head spun a little, maybe from the overwhelming rush of fresh air flooding my lungs. Or the sunlight...
This, this is as distant as I can be from the real world at the moment.
Unless I magically transform myself into a meditative master with a snap of my fingers...
I breathe in,...the sweetness of damp leaves. I want to put up a tent and stay here...
In Greenwich Park, with the squirrels...

Change. An overwhelming need for it suddenly crashes through me. All the procrastination...
The unhealthy stagnancy...the fucking annoying ignorance at an ache that just won't go away...
I've become so preoccupied with saving or fixing other people, or things...
Telling myself somehow, it is because I am selfless, when in fact it is just because
I don't know quite what to do to move myself. The answers I don't have...
There are answers I don't have?!...

I stumble over the things, that used to cripple me. Remembering the time when it was
fresh. When I couldn't quite believe there would come a time when it would leave me.
Not wake from nightmares. Not cower at every normal argument in fear that it would end in danger.
A time when I lost myself so completely, I couldn't even believe I had ever really existed.
Or that I should once more.
How far I have come, I must remind myself.
How far away from that time I am.





Friday, 25 April 2014

The Lover, Half-Hearted

Somewhere between Friday evening and Saturday morning, I fall in love.
But then,
Monday comes too soon and I know that now it will be over.
Because in the days that follow I lose you. A little more with each day,
The distance grows.
By Wednesday, the clutch I have upon any hope dissipates.
And I hold on so tight to it, I begin to feel a fool.
By Thursday my heart breaks in pity at itself.
It's foolish, lonely overzealous beating.
For something that does not exist. that cannot be real.
I wait. I wait for you to want me, enough
That you can't stop yourself from reaching for me,
Before I reach for you. I'll give in.
Wondering whether if I didn't...
 "would I see you at all- would I hear anything?"
I don't understand this part time...thing.
You have a life so separate from me I don't even know you.
If you don't ever feel like you fall over yourself,
If you are never going to be overwhelmed
If you don't want me enough to respect that my time
is as precious as yours...
Let me go.
Tidal doesn't work.
I get swept away in the repetition.
The melancholy of unknowing.
This is not mere independence.
Independent suits me just fine.
This is alone.
Another Friday morning.
My belly churns, my body heavy.
The excitement at the prospect of seeing you
The anticipation....
Long since disappeared.
Now I am only lost in self conservation.
I should listen to my begging heart.
Growing tired of being torn.
But instead, here we are.
It's Friday.
I fall in love.







Monday, 31 March 2014

The things that we can't say.

It creeps up on me, like a ghost through the night.
Not the way a lover should.
Stealing my sleep in the worst ways.
My heart lies heavy in my chest,
With all the things that I can't say.
Swallowing me in the shadows.
I cannot bring myself even to reach out,
as I long to, just to feel his skin.
I fear in his distance.
A lack of desire.
I wait.
Hoping he will reach for me
even involuntarily.
Wanting his subconscious to seek out my presence.
It won't happen. It never does.

He doesn't need me, doesn't want me. At least
Not with the intensity to which I am accustomed.

I imagine safety to be something so simple.
occurring when somehow I find this perfect balance.
Where I can give myself up.
I swirl myself up in my invisible swaths of defence
Treating vulnerability as though it were a fantasy.
That in me;does not exist.
The walls I build take me further from myself.
So far that I lose my way.
Caught up in the caricature - this girl
Who feels no hurt.
Only laughs at herself.
Doesn't need.
Not a body or a thing.

I lie, awake.
Measuring the distance.
Wondering if I should jump in.
Or jump out, before I get my self crushed like a bug beneath a shoe.
Second guessing whether it really is my magical intuition.
Or just fear.
That keeps me running.
That has me seeking things which may simply not exist.
Putting thoughts into other minds.

All I know is that what I need,
Is not yet here.
Not within my grasp.

But it may in fact be me,
Who holds it out of reach.

Wednesday, 5 February 2014

The Mathematics Of Time

I cannot tip toe around myself. I'm always too aware.
My limbs feel like they are made of some kind of heavy dough, I move with such lethargy I burn from frustration, at not being able to keep up with my usual pace.
My stomach churns and grumbles all day.
I cannot forget.
Cannot lose myself to work or idle thought.
Every breath leaks sadness, and a disappointment in myself.
I find myself doing the mathematics of time. Find myself lost in evasive theory.
But I cannot gain any distance from the terror.

I cannot speak words the way I wish to.
It is not the lack of ears to hear, but my own distaste at them being heard...
My body shakes, and I can't stand how fragile I feel.
Oh. How I hate to feel fragile.
Hate to need- when I cannot speak of it.
Cannot admit to it.
Will not allow myself to.

I fall, fall to pieces.
And pick myself up.
For I cannot let anyone else do it.

Weakness...
Is it strength or weakness that stops me admitting
My own human need to be cared for.
For I can no longer fool myself that I need nothing.
And no one.



Friday, 20 December 2013

Separation

Sometimes pain is kindness.
Sometimes, you are the monster hiding beneath another persons bed.
Haunting their sleep.
And apologies mean nothing.
For what is in your hearts cannot be removed.
The memories in your flesh, stain every cell of your being.
Loss. The loss and the grief strip everything out of you.
Your soul raw. Such depth of sadness it's as though your insides have been scraped out and laid out before you.
Time. The value of two, turned to dust.
Lovers without love.
For what does it matter, to love.
When you were once wrapped within it.
Safe. Untouchable from air or reality.
Remove its traces from my being.
To love but not be in love any longer...
The cruelest task set upon us.
Of tearing another's heart to pieces.
Of wishing you could fix it.
Be all that they need.
Sorrow.
It fills me up. Spills over.
All the years...the many days that made up our time together.
The care.
My heart falls apart.
But it is. And cannot be another way.
We fall apart.
We lose.
And the pain is unforgiving.
And "sorry" can never be enough to explain the wounds we are left with.

Sunday, 1 December 2013

Chocolate Milk

By seven, I'm crazy with loneliness.too many hours cooped up, exhausted in my tiny space. I cannot seem to catch up to myself. The tiredness is so overwhelming. But I don't sleep early,and can't wake late.
I lay there.trying. My head starts to ache from being horizontal for what feels like eternity.
By seven, I cannot pretend any longer
That music is company. Cannot pretend that however comfortable I am with being alone, sometimes it's too heavy. And I am too overwhelming even for myself.
Turning it off, a lump catches in my throat.
As though I've pulled out my own plug.
Just one of those days, that turns in on itself. Displaying inexplicable sadness...
The end of the day dips low. And I realise just how much I wanted to see him.
But I feel the urge to hide my need away...
To be the only one to catch myself.
I was ready to leave the house.
Therefore, I must leave the house.
I walk.
I converse in my head. The ridiculous nature of my being. I buy chocolate milk and head home. Crunching upon autumn leaves.
I forget my own methods of distraction,
Sometimes.
Sometimes, I forget myself.

Wednesday, 30 October 2013

Condition.

My eyes fall upon him with such softness,  that I find my self sighing at my own lack of the
necessary despondency.
This overwhelming urge to take care of him grips me when I read the unrest in his face, regardless of where it has arrived from. I want to make his mind quiet. Wrap him up in the soft waves of silence.
But,...he doesn't care for me.
Not as I care. But then- I care too much...
I should work on slowing the beat of my heart.
My mind sending out it's care into darkened air. Each time it comes to rest upon him I hope it somehow permeates his skin...
Making him feel safe. Even if he neither knows nor cares for why.
I give out without expecting to get back.
I cannot seem to help myself.
I want him to feel loved, despite my own heart.
My mind becomes tangled around his seemingly thoughtless inaction.
And I know I should step back before I fall.
For somehow his lack spurs me on.
I am no longer to be the moth at a flame.