I hope I was able to convey my emotions well. I'm really hoping that all my emotion went into this one. (this one's the one Mrs. Pruess really really liked) This poem is to my beautiful Kit. Your love is everything to me...
if ambitions were vehicles I would fill a parking lot with idle beauties perpetually admired, examined, tested, replaced specimens of listlessness to enliven the senses with mind-pictures of tomorrow, mountains, streams, forever, deserts and the sea and the chance of a journey down a new trail
the sunset gets dusty after I file it away tomorrow, could you please polish my wishmobiles?
i'm rather overworked these days (sad smiles and trudging footfalls on the asphalt)
I finally have my new computer after all this time of waiting so I decided to get straight on with some editing, thankfully this computer has a nice graphics card in so i get more realistic colours compared to how they were displayed on my old one... This edit came from yet again re-editing my Brighton pier picture and using the colour balance tool to give the highlights a green bias, after that just cropped it. Not the best editing ever this just came as a result of messing about
I did a few shots like this which were basically about having a cluttered focus. I quite like these messy shots because there's so much variation in tone and colour... and the depth of field works quite well.
Do you remember the total darkness? When the stars lost their luster and I, I knowing you were afraid of the dark came to your house. And you loved me, and I loved you and we loved each other for being in love with one another. I told you, "Even if you don't love you, I do." I sat on your roof with you and in total darkness, we rolled a joint. "This is your life in paper." you said. "Don't waste it." The only light was the red cherry at the end, I could see your features in the dim light, I wanted to kiss every part of you. You sucked in and resting your hand on mine, passing my free hand the joint. You held your own, breathing out the awkward scent without coughing. I wanted you to inhale me, take me into you. I wanted to invade your bloodstream and swim to your heart and brain. I wanted to peel away your frosty cold skin, peel it away and see your insides. So we did the next best thing.
It must have been 3 AM when you rolled over on me, your body- for once- warm to touch. You woke me up and I looked at you groggily. You told me, "Everything will be just fine." then you rolled over. I couldn't help but stare at the back of your head for a while before my weary head drifted off again. I wonder still why you told me that. When it was a decent hour, and you woke next to me, you shoke me a little. I smiled at you and said 'Good morning'. You said to me: "I can see that you love me in your eyes." I smiled and closed my eyes. "How about now?" I asked, waiting for your reply. You said then "I can still tell you love me by your smile. Your smile says 'I love this crazy fool of mine and I don't care who knows it." To this I started at you a while. I covered my smile with my hand, and closed my eyes again. "What about now?" I asked in a muffled voice. Then you said to me shakily. "I cannot tell if you love me anymore." To this, I opened my eyes and wrapped my arms around you. "I love you" I said. And I would say it again.
Where did you go? What did I say to make you go there? What can I say to make you come back here? You left, so I found her. I kissed her lips, because she said that her lips had tasted your lips, and I thought by being with her I would be closer to you. She didn't have your smell, she didn't say your words. When she told me she loved me, I didn't see it in her eyes at all. I saw nothing. Light green as deep as your eyes can see before seeing a soul. I saw nothing, empty. I wondered how empty she was. I wanted to open her up, just like you. I wanted to dissect her like in biology class. Cut the frog from throat to anus, peel back his skin. Take out the lungs. The heart. The ovaries. The nothing. I wanted to put something inside you. You weren't empty like her though. I wanted to make her bleed. Make the bitch crawl. I didn't love her, and she didn't love me. There was no dark nights with her, and never will be.
I tracked you down. It wasn't easy. I went from person to person, kissing men and women who have kissed you to get closer to you, but never them, never ever them. And finally I found you. I don't know why you left me. I don't know why I bothered tracking you down. I don't know why you lied to me. I can quote you. "Everything will be just fine." Fine my ass. You are nothing but dusty bones and dirt, my love. Fucking bitch, and I loved you, still do.
I saw you yesterday. I've missed you, you know that. You saw me too, but turned away, which is understandable, I guess. But that hurt. In the thirty seconds we spent in the same place, I was drowning in my memories, holding back and not giving anything away.
I saw the times we stood together, not seeing the rest of the world spinning by, ignoring the stares of strangers worn out by the love they'd never had. I remembered wrapping my arms around your neck and your hands on my back, and my waist. I remembered that feeling in my chest when your soft cheek rubbed against mine, and I felt your kiss on my lips. Did you remember that when you saw me?
You must have felt it. All I needed was to look at you and I'd have known, but you couldn't bear to look me in the eye. Do you hate me? Oh god, don't answer that. I don't want to know. What you'll never know can't hurt you... I thought that was right, at the time. Now I'm not so sure, I think not knowing has hurt you a thousand times more than the truth could, but I wasted my chance, I can't ever tell you now because you won't ever forgive me.
This morning I picked up my red pen and scrawled in big, smooth letters across the page:
I AM NOT WHO YOU THINK I AM
It was, I believe, the most honest thing I have ever written. I left the page on my unmade bed, the bed we used to share, and dragged myself to the mirror. What a sorry sight I was. Purple and green bruises (ironically the colours of my usual eye make up) adorned my left eye in a shape not unlike a peacock's tail. From my right eye, streaks of dried-on mascara made lines like claw marks from my lashes to my chin, a stark contrast to my white, sickly skin. My hair, through a mixture of greasy hair products, sweat and blood was mostly stuck to my scalp, although at random angles some bunched-up, matted clusters of hair stood up. Having looked at my head and carpet-burned shoulders in the mirror, I turned away, wincing with each movement, to move into the bathroom. I started to run a bath, with the hot water flowing so quickly and heavily that the steam filled my lungs and choked me, which in turn made my tears and mascara run more from my already bloodshot eyes. I reached for the bubble bath, but quickly pulled my hand away at the thought of the soap bubbles getting into the open wounds. Too painful, I thought.
After the bath had run, I climbed in slowly, making sure not to step in while it was too hot, trying to keep the cuts and burns out of the water for as long as possible. And all the time, I was thinking of you. He's got me stuck here, he's the reason we're apart, but I couldn't tell you that then. You know what he's doing, but you think this is my fault, because I left you for him. Please believe me, you're so wrong there. Yes, I did leave you to be with him, but it was only to save you. I didn't want you hurt. He said he was going to kill you, and I believed him - empty threats are non-existent in this relationship. What he says he'll do, he does. Last night he told me he'd have my blood on his hands. He did.
I'm so full of regrets. I wish you were here, I wish you knew what really happened. I know you wouldn't believe me, I know you wouldn't listen if I tried to explain. Don't hate me. Every day I'm dying, every day I'm trying to cope and it's for you. Please, don't hate me. If only you knew.
Something I'm going to write right now. This has no plan, but I feel I should submit something as I have not updated in a very long time. So please forgive me if it is strange, or nonsensical (as most of my writings are) but this is the plan, the draft and the finished product all written together.