Tuesday, 29 January 2013

Red Thread

Fingers gripping
red strings of fate tied
to my pinky
Barely holding
Slip
Slip
down.
Breaking, fraying
hold on tight
but it can’t

hold me
up anymore.
The divide
black, sucking
caverns of craggy teeth
mouths
hands
fraying string
red as blood.
Echoing cries of
“please”
Slip, slip, down
don’t
bother
no one’s coming.
I’ve got to
let go.
That
red string’s
slipping
down.

Thursday, 24 January 2013

Ignite


“That night... There are no words for it.”
Arms wrapped around shoulders
staring out at space
an empty void dotted with stars.
“Shh. It’s not over yet.”
Dewy grass on my back
an explosion of colour behind my eyes.
“They’re...amazing. I’ve never seen the fireworks so close.”
Cheek to cheek, hip to hip
inseparable.
“I had to do something special for you after everything you do for me.”
Whisper kiss like lapping tide
the stars ignite in prisms
leaving smoke to dance the sky.
“I don't think I've ever had a better day.”
You give me life
you give me night
you gave me tonight
being by my side.
“Nice to know I'm not alone in that.”

Chances of Lightning


I watch the waves crash against the craggy rocks, far below, the beat of the restless tide matching with that of my restless heart. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to leave this island, to jump down into that stormy blue, capped with white.
But I can’t.
I know I can’t, and so do the Men. That’s why they chose this island, small – tiny, in fact – high above the roaring waves. The sheer height of the cliffs keeping me from running.
Sometimes I wonder what it would be like with my friends here. I had them once, lots of them. But they were bad, they made me do bad things, or so said the Men. My friends are the reason I’m here. They must not find me.
It didn’t take them long to bore, and once they got bored they left, never to be seen again. Suzy was the only one who stayed; she was my favourite, my best friend. We understood one another. She wouldn’t have left me, I know, something scared her away. Every time I try to remember—
Pain.
Blinding.
White-hot.
A flash.
Electricity.
There was lightning.
Of course it was the lightning. Suzy’s terrified of that.
She was gone. And I was alone.
The memory makes me scream, throwing tufts of the island’s parched grass at the low-hanging gray clouds.
“Why me? Why do you hate me so much?!”
“I’ve never hated you. You’re my best friend.”
I can barely breathe.
Stones crumble off the ledge as the claw-like hands pull up the willowy body. She stands above me, smiling maliciously, like Death himself.
“Suzy?” My voice is weak.
“But you were bad. They brought out the lightning, don’t you remember? You know how I hate that. I told you I’d be back, and here I am.” She cackles menacingly, the wild wind whipping her hair around her head. “And I know that’s what you want.”
Her legs merge together, turning into a long serpentine tail. I watch, powerless as it coils around me.
“Isn’t it?”
I shake my head, writhing away as she creeps her long and bony hands up my arm. “No.” First quiet. And then loud. Until I’m screaming it with all I have. “NO!
“But I thought you wanted a friend, maybe you don’t deserve one…”
The island melts into the stained white walls of padding, droplets of the older vista slipping into oblivion. Suzy herself dissolves into a swell of spiders, which scurry into the cracks between the walls.
I am alone in the padded room. The sanitarium. Just as I have always been. Screaming ‘No’ because that’s all I’ve ever known. All I can believe in.
The Men open the padded door, dragging me from the room, they tie me to a table, attaching sharp metal clips to my skin, “Shh, we’re just going to help you with a little shock therapy, now.”
My expression is blank, “Suzy won’t be back for a while. She’s scared of lightning.”

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

Colour of Life : A Monologue


BOY #2

Life is blue.
Blue is small and sad. Lost and empty. It’s big enough to swallow you whole. It’s being lost and confused. It’s loneliness. It’s a cry in the night and a slash of bright sky in the morning. It’s all I can remember feeling, everything I’ve learnt to expect.
All someone can know after... well, after a lot of things, I guess.
Blue, in its darkest, most painful form is death. Death of everything I ever loved. Death of happiness and smiles. Death of warm embraces and warm beds to crawl into at night. The death of my family.
Blue is my dad’s guitar, the one thing from my old life I still carry around with me. Blue is the colour of its sleek, shiny body. Blue is the melancholy songs I write for it. Blue is finding inside me the one thing that makes me happy. Blue is opening a door in my self I never thought to open. Blue is music, the last bit of love I can feel.
Blue is heartache. Blue is loss. Blue is pouring out my soul into that instrument. It’s the hunger I live through just to be able to buy new strings. All to keep my soul alive. To stop me from turning into an empty, cold, shell of a person.
It’s the smiles that people give me when they hear me play in the park. It’s the rare smile I feel on my own face when I let myself be swept away in the music.
Blue is the rain that falls from the sky, drenching me to the bone. It’s the sky parting once more, the low-hanging clouds giving way to open, smiling skies. Blue is the beginning of the sunrise and the end of a sunset. It’s the beginning of beginnings and the end of ends. It’s everything in between.
Blue is hope. The feeling that maybe one morning I’ll wake up and it will all have been a dream. That maybe something good will happen, something that will change me. Make me better.
Blue is the only colour I seemed to notice in any place I ever went after they died. The world always seemed tinged blue, because the warmth I used to know was drained from it. Blue and cold. Loveless. Every foster home was the same. Blue. The only thing that changed were the people there and the feelings I got when they looked at me. Happy blue, sad blue, angry blue.
Blue was the first fire escape I ever climbed out of. Blue was the night where I packed up everything and ran away. Blue was the air pumping through my lungs as I left that foster home far behind. Blue was never once thinking about escaping back up. It was spending my first night sleeping outside in an alley. It was wondering if I was going to die. It was not minding if I was.
Blue was the uniformed police officers who found me in the morning. It was the feeling of hopelessness as they pulled me to the station. It was my escort to my new family. It was their fake smiles as they welcomed me in.
Blue was running away again and again. Blue was learning to live alone. Blue was enjoying it.
Blue is tears. It’s crying out everything you have and everything you want to be. It’s forgetting the past and fearing the future. It’s hiding in the present because it can get worse, but you don’t want to think about that.
Blue is worry. It’s giving up. It’s fighting. It’s lasting. Longing.
Blue is the only colour broken people know.
Blue is the only colour I know.
Blue is life.