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Literature Text
I danced with you upon hard floors, clicking my heels at the same time as yours, copying you relentlessly - the way you wanted me to. You hinted at certain steps and I acted them out obligingly. I know nothing of dance but I know the rhythm of blood - beat, beat, beat, thud, thud, thud. Mine was faster than speed whilst yours bled out slow lethargy, swallowing my red-heart noises and clumsy steps with tongue and throat. I ingested instructions and spat out conformity with wide, wide eyes. I swirled my legs through oxygen and too much carbon just like you did - gaining education in the art of imitation. Sunlight streamed into and my open spaces, pouring itself through our illusion of immortality and slashing out any chance of happily-ever-after. Your face turned to ghostly shades and sunlight changed to darklight as we spun unimpressive webs. Our faces were covered in grey, white, black and our bodies formed an arch of cheap fragility; struggling to find anything more than skin. We lived inside dance and hearts for short bursts at a time, hiding away in caves within existence. We fed upon fabrication and we could not bring ourselves to believe in anything but false dreams.
When the sun rose in cloudless skies and rain dribbled onto duplicated smiles we broke like crowds and slept for endless amounts of time. But endlessness decided it had had enough of our pretence, our silent drama - it ripped away our shadows and dropped us like lead. We fell as feathers onto pillows instead of concrete. At least eternity didn't hear the beat, beat, beat and the thud, thud, thud of my blood as it fell from fantasy into reality and remained exactly the same.
15th April 2005
When the sun rose in cloudless skies and rain dribbled onto duplicated smiles we broke like crowds and slept for endless amounts of time. But endlessness decided it had had enough of our pretence, our silent drama - it ripped away our shadows and dropped us like lead. We fell as feathers onto pillows instead of concrete. At least eternity didn't hear the beat, beat, beat and the thud, thud, thud of my blood as it fell from fantasy into reality and remained exactly the same.
15th April 2005
Literature
A Closet Deep
They're not hiding they were forced
judgement worst
with mumbled retorts
quivering red lips sobbing
muffled rebuttalsIt's your fault
for
being
youthat sickness
infecting
you turn the tumblers of coal
they don't want the world to know
who you are
who you have been with
who you kissed women or mensome are forced in catacombs thick
for their closets are deposits
of
fear and shamefor the hand that closes the door
other hands will open them
for youones who warden youHave already confined themselves to claustrophobic cells.
Literature
no means no
I. i can come off as being needy
needy- like the time he pressed up against me
and said it was okay
'this is what people who love each other do'his shy words gripped me
‘i love you’
tighter than his grasp that night did II. at the time
it was hard for my head to wrap around
what his skittish words really meant
because love is a tentative wordi love falling asleep
(the same way i fell for him)
knowing there are stars above
strategically placed to protect me from
snagging shadowsi love the way i can feel
as if a shoddy blanket
(or a pair of arms)
can warm me for a fortnighti love the way music leaves an imprint
(like gentle kisses to a...
Literature
Turning Into Fiction.
Every drop of doubt that falls
Leaves an echo of ripples in your reflection.
I want to gouge my fingers into this uncertainty
And read you like a book, but
The chapters of your dark side make me reconsider.
Each page reveals a potential twist and turn,
And danger, so much danger for such a fragile heart.
What if on the last page I realize the story is just fiction?
You are
Uncontrollable, your thirst is
Unquenchable and who am I to
Shut your eyes from your own lust?
My hold is loose when fate and
Lack of faith are gnawing at your covers.What I fear most is not you waking up to somebody else,
But you waking up as somebody else entirely.
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For N.S.
2005
2005
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