Floral and flouncy she brushes through,
Energy radiating from her like a tiny perfect tornado.
Lift me up. I need her to lift me up.
I am silt today. No good to anyone.
A bloated mass of drained out goodness.
Whirl me pretty thing.
Remind me that I like to sing.
I do faintly recall, dabbing oils behind my ears
And popping colour on my lips.
But today I am grey.
I think I have no place in this picture.
I want to want it.
I want to crave the light.
But I have no sight.
She is the only link to what I once was.
If she were a color she wouldn’t stay between the lines.
She bleeds through pages and it is her blood I need.
Feed. Feed me.
See more. See more.
I need to see more.
There are no surprises for a writer
Just the outcome of one storyline that we had already imagined.
It is both our curse and cure.
To never be sure
But always certain that the winds of change will blow our curtains
Wide. Wide. Wide.
The worlds we create sweep far beyond you.
To see what is possible and to guess the impossible.
The magic of it all.
Life has us in thrall.
No you didn’t ambush me.
I saw it a million miles away.
Silly you behind a bush.
Hush. Hush. Hush.
No shock at your roadblock.
A writer has hope is all.
Hope that the right tale is the one our lives will take
But if not , we won’t break.
We’ll go around and about.
We’re weavers and believers.
Ah yes but it’s all a dream isn’t it ?
Don’t ever be smug
That you pulled the rug
From underneath me.
I put it there and I didn’t tie it down.
The biggest lesson you taught me
Is that it is possible to breathe.
It is possible to walk about and eat and sleep and touch and laugh and squeeze out tears.
It is possible to play the part
But have no heart.
You taught me about a new breed
Who walk among us folk
You think we’re the joke ?
I suppose we are.
We are cursed by the need to understand people like you
The other kind who
Hurt and harm, with a well crafted charm.
But more than hurt you have taught me pity
Because you didn’t just fall to earth.
You are man-made, my dear
This persona borne of fear.
The love that is allowed thrive for most of us
Must have been beaten out.
So I forgive you though you don’t actually care
The truth is I forgive myself.
Forgive myself for being ever pissed
With yet another narcissist.
Hear ye, hear ye !
It’s midnight madness at the house of the damned.
Time to set your clothes on fire and don the filligree garments woven by spiders and embellished by unholy light.
Sparkle and weave your way into the night.
Black roses will beckon you at the door
No need to hold secrets to your skin.
Sin. Sin. We all have here.
Bring all your crazy wishes to the floor
And spin with them awhile.
Let loose the laughter that you once stopped through gritted teeth
The inappropriate guffaw you hushed at the funeral pyre
There is no need to dim desire.
You’re at your Aunty’s so to speak
Crying is for the weak.
The gutteral screams of loss and despair
Hold no flair.
Put them aside at the witching hour
The moonlight will bring forth your power
It’s all, not nothing here
Have no fear.
Time is not a line nor is it fine.
It has a spherical elegance that is hinted at throughout the universe
Such is our curse.
Blind to the now and here.
The sphere. The sphere.
Nevermind my dear
Your eyes have not yet adjusted to this new world.
It’s brave and so are you.
All it takes is a run and a skip.
I cannot but note the checkered path you walk.
Light. Shadow. Light. Shadow.
Both in equal measure
Casting pain then dispersing pleasure.
It is this half life you lead
One foot in Heaven, the other in Hell.
Heaven. Hell. Heaven. Hell.
The veil between the two
Means nothing to you.
You never ask
In which pool I bask?
The tepid water is not for me.
I require the sea.
The clean, mean, wash of a million waves
Save. Safe. Saves
This is not a mermaid’s tale.
It is my story. My glory.
I won’t sit on a rock and comb my hair
Looking to you for all my air.
So If you wish to swim by my side.
Then pick one.
A ladle of silky contentment poured over my shoulders
Here it was. The moment I had been waiting for.
Nothing in particular but everything at the same time.
A smooth, settling in the pit of my stomach
A filling of a chasm
Was it the sun ?
The fulfillment of all my wishes ?
Or was it just that you washed the dishes ?
I longed for solvation
The kind that allows you to work it all out in one fell swoop.
I tried. I did. I tried.
I could not sit. I could not sleep.
My resolve was to solve.
I did my best with everyone
I brushed things under the rug
Hug. Hug. Hug.
I hugged it out.
I wanted everyone in neat littles boxes.
Like me. Like me.
I wanted you all to like me.
I paid no heed as pieces fell off.
A chip here or there.
It was worth it wasn’t it ?
But people don’t like mess.
And they complained that I was no longer enough.
I cut my arms off for you
But you wanted me whole.
And only when I was a torso lying in the dirt
Did I see the truth of it all.
It’s a tug of war .
And if I give a little
You take a mile.
If I smirk a little
You want a smile.
So I stand firmer now
And hope you admire my might
And if you don’t
Tough fooking shite.
I asked myself for the hundredth time
What will I do ? What will I do ?
Should I ? Could I ? May I ?
I looked to you for a pat on the head
Each nod another nail in my scaffolding.
Each an apparent strengthening of a weak structure underneath.
I was under the illusion that you kept me up.
But meanwhile a quiet hand was busy inside
Putting cement in the cracks
Strengthening the original.
A soft whisper reminding me that once I stood alone.
No outside work necessary to hold my bones.
Little by little I dismantled your hold
The nails weren’t even fully in.
The wood you used was weak
The metal bars prone to leaks.
So when you fell, I didn’t fall
I had no need for an outer wall
The stone and rock that made me… me
Had been enough but I didn’t see
I looked to others for so much approval
Yet was strong enough after their removal
The walls I had were strong not frail
Without the input of your nails.
Calling all “chickens and cowards”
Calling all those who are afraid
Calling all who lie awake at night
And who sleep through the day
It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok.
I am you. You are me.
We may never be free.
We may never walk unshackled in the meadows
Jump off the cliff into the sea.
That’s ok. That’s ok. That’s ok.
But you are reading me.
And I am reading you.
We don’t need constant light
To write. To right. To write.
So put down the whip you use on your back
The one that tells you , you are not good enough
Put down the app that makes you feel you are not living your best life
You are living.
Day by day. Minute by minute. Second to second.
You are a warrior. Fighting your own war.
The fear you feel is not your fault
Do not go gently into the vault
Take it. Wield it. Continue to fight.
If all else fails..
There’s a word for someone like you
But I haven’t found it yet
What you are is not in my vocabulary
I was never taught the rules by which you play
The map by which you live
There’s a word for you, there has to be
I’m not sure what it is
As I’m not sure what you are.
There’s a whisper on the wind since the first time we kissed
Nar… Nar… Narcissist.
“I think God is the first person who died”
That’s what my seven year old said as he we played together.
Wow. Wow. Wow.
I had never considered that.
Also I had never considered the very first person who died.
Where was their heaven if one believes in such things ?
Who greeted them in that tunnel of light ?
No prophet yet born. No lamb of God shorn.
Was it the Devil ?
That doesn’t seem fair.
Sent to his lair.
Or hers. For just being first.
Man or woman ? Was it Adam or Eve?
Whatever you believe. Somebody was the first to go.
The first to leave.
Before all the fuss of what to follow
Makes it all seem hollow.
Dare I say silly ?
Dare I ?
I won’t go where you want me to. Won’t lie where you think I will.
I am always on the sill.
I will stand on your shoulders and when you can no longer bear it
I will take hold of a branch and climb like an ape.
Up, up, up, I will go.
You’re too slow
You can’t hold on,you see?
I am earth and sky.
I walk. I fly.
Unable to be pinned.
Tuna not tinned.
To swim in the sea.
Animal. Cannibal. Bird.
I move with the herd.
You lag behind my friend.
I’m not saying it’s the end.
It’s definitely not the beginning.
Somewhere in the middle.
Somewhere wild and open
Don’t ruin it with ‘hopin’.
(c)Slumpless(originally posted 30.03.17)