Fade

Hold me and heal me. Chase the darkness away.
Rock me to sleep.
Cut your wrists and then stay,
forever in this palace of darkness and time.
Locked in a dream.
Beautiful and mine.
Forget all the world, with its promise of pain.
Hold me and fade,
like a tear in the rain.

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Still running away

The rain had come as soon as she left the main path. She heard it now pattering on the leaves in the canopy above her. The sheltering forest where all was unsure and forbidden. She never saw it this way, this was always how it was put to her, and this is always how it was made to be. She ran along further, carving her own way through existence. The sun had yet to set, but the rain clouds had smothered the earth in that part of her little kingdom, and the forest now gleamed with a wet twilight.

She had caught herself only a couple of times, hesitant to step deeper within and away from all of what she knew and all that she resisted. Her feet sloshed now in the puddles that had formed on the forest floor. Bits of moss and time made her slip and stumble, but on she flew. Running away, running beyond. Looking for herself again.

She had left the hills and the ruins behind her, blinked them away in a heartbeat as her skin touched the dense air of the woodland and the smell of freshness. A return, a renewal of sorts; though she knew it was not to begin anything again. The sanctuary lay beyond this world now for her. She had seen the darkness, and tasted the decay of life. She had thought about her death time and again. Stored it away in small pockets of her world, only to find it ever present on her horizon. Popping out of the days and the jars she kept in her kitchen cupboards. No one knew of course, she had shuttled from each thought to another in the dizzying malaise of the worn down and woe-begotten. Left to sit and turn in the sun like an unloved pot plant on a window ledge. Her death had come each time in many colours, brilliant reds and blues that would drip down from the sky and swallow her. There was never any pain; that was how it was supposed to be. The ashen taste in her mouth told her it was coming, and all would be done. Pushing through the thicket now, she came to where she was meant to be.

Making her way into the clearing she, the forest heaved and silenced itself, as if waiting for the show to begin. The leaves parting like the curtains of a stage. She stepped out, like tiptoeing onto a dream, making her way to the clump in the middle of the clearing. Her eyes were thick now with water, her eyelashes shaking off the dew of a realisation. Cracking and tearing her way from the chrysalis. Tiny eyes shone out from the trees, the beasts joining her in to taste the end.

The small knife gleamed in the grey light which danced around the clearing, little sparks and souls prancing lyrically on the blade. The ash had begun to fill he mouth as the black sky above had begun to open. Her world was beginning to drown as she felt the skin prickle and the cool metal throb to the vein.

And then she stopped.

At her feet she saw the body, the clumped skin that lay before her like a rug at the end of a bed. She stood frozen, the rain trickling down her face as the sky now heaved and lightened the vista. The dream was begin to rumble, the humming underneath building like a train rumbling underground. She knew what it was before she touched that place, that skin and hair before her which had to be known. She knew already, but she was scared to see. Scared to reach in and feel her way through a thousand lives and know the truth.

Bending down she rolled the body over, the eyes shining back like she knew they world. Reflecting mirrors that caught that dancing light and shone back to her like the waves of the ocean. Her time flowed through her in an instant, a tidal spray of understanding washing over her. She stared at her own body, laying on that cold forest floor. Discovered only by herself and the eyes of the animals now which fidgeted and rustled around her. The blood had dried over her throat, the deep slash made a lifetime ago, yet the crimson stained her skin like a smashed cherry, licking at her neck. Her death had come a gone, many times before.

This was a moment she was discovering now, but it happened all the same each day. Every time she took that knife from the drawer. Each time she turned off her phone and closed the world away. Those moments at work when she wished to be away from everyone. Feeling alone in a crowd while they burned holes into her. Those were the times she died, when she came here to that forest clearing where the sky above swallowed her. These were the moments when her soul cried, and dripped down into that forest on the edge of her life, taking her further and further from god. Further from the light. Blurring her memory into a stain on the window of time.

Interred

He was buried on the Tuesday morn.
While the rest of the world slept.
Into the ground, like being unborn.
Darkness around the coffin crept.
And they left John there, in that hole the ground.
After covering him up with earth.
In spirits they wished their sadness to drown.
So drank their sorrow away to mirth.
But after a while, inside the box.
Poor John had started to stir.
From the top of his head, down to his socks.
Some chaos was about to occur.
For John wasn’t dead, he’d only been sleeping.
When they’d thought the worse and put under.
And now the panic, inside him was creeping.
To get out of that terrible blunder.
But the panic was not down to being buried alive.
Or confined in that horrible space.
For John was nearly ninety five.
And it was heaven he knew was his place.
So he did what anyone would down there.
In the dark and no longer young.
He crossed his chest and uttered a prayer.
Closed his eyes and swallowed his tongue

Down within

Down to the water’s edge.
Beneath the willow and the sadness.
He stopped his world for a while.
No hand to pull him back.
Only invisible fingers pushing him forward.
Reeling in his mind like spinning wheels.
He lay on the cold bank.
Shedding his tears into deeper pools.
Pouring out his misery and loneliness.
Until he drowned the flying fish.
An ice crept across the water.
Licking his bones and sealing his eyes tight.
His heart caught between a beat and a break.
Hurrying this ice-age that would sweep the world away.
Yet he does not dwell unobtainably with the gods.
Or at the end of a book to placed on the shelf.
His small pool of sorrow lies within.
Every time the change of seasons ring.
Each day your body sways and splits..
He aches once more for the shore.

Surviving is the best revenge

Into the bath he jumped fully clothed.
The water boiled, and curled his toes.
It shed his skin, his hair, his eyes.
But acid, not water burnt away both his thighs.
A ghastly end, but one incomplete.
For his bones remained from head to feet.
So out he jumped, forgetting his pride.
Down the plug the water went, with his thoughts of suicide.
And in the mirror glaring back.
Was his bleached white skeleton, from front to back.
He saw his skull, its sockets so deep.
Out of his mouth a little whimper did creep.
But not one to dither, or dwell in his state.
He ran down the stairs, and out the front gate.
And he came to the house that had made him so morose.
And he slipped through the door, as quiet as a ghost.
He crept up the stair, to where he knew he would find them.
And he brought out some rope, and some tape so to bind them.
Both lovers were sleeping, intertwined while they dreamt.
Their hair and their clothes, all wild and unkempt.
So he tied them together, then he set fire to the bed.
He watched as the flames roared up to their heads.
But before they departed, before their own bones were charred.
He slipped off his fibular to play a tuneful bon voyage.

Rooted

An infamous eponymous way of life, what will they remember?
Long after the ash has turned into nothing, sucked up into the atmosphere.
Breathed in by the moon.
We all return.
Will you find me, hidden under sleeping giants in the road or in the monsters belly?
Walking in a dream or cold in the bath.
How will you look when you feel I’m gone?
The pulse abandoned as your own quickens.
If you wished to join me, I’m sure there’s a plus one. Room for another.
But no, play on, plough through. I’ll readjust the spotlight.
What will become.
New arms to hold and new days to endure.
Or will we both disappear into that wormy ground of premature-ness and void.
Kiss me and let it all fall away.
Kiss me, I always felt safe with you in all this pain.
Rooted to the nothingness and all.
Back to where we belong.

Odyssey

Waking up and following the star, the one that dazzles and tempts.
Wondrous offerings of stardust and heroin.
Death is not the enemy.
The flat line, the one foot in the soil.
Hospital beds and pharmacies.
It’s all a commercial for heaven.
My journey that started with such abandon, where has it led me?
After all, I’m not where I want to be.
If I’m honest, I’m ashamed. Stuck in mortality, delicious sweet vitality.
My tank is far from empty, yet there’s water in the fuel.
What is now ahead, what is the remedy?
Will God take her time?
Tick tock clocks and crocodile teeth. Shaking in the can of life.
All it takes is one decision.
Concentrate.