"I will keep fighting against the god of this world
until my arms have been blown off and my feet will not carry
me"
1904. London.
Rats whisked past the inscription, which had been etched deep down in the brick of the alley, forgotten by time and human warmth. It was a wide road, once used as a route for carriages and whatnot. No more footsteps sounded. A deserted corner. No more footsteps sounded, except his. He whistled softly at the rats, holding a kerchief forth. Crumbs fell from cloth silently, the clicks of the rodents' claws growing louder, fading away as they finished and returned to their shadows. His steel-toed boots clicked against the floor as he walked slowly towards the wall bearing the inscription... And faded into the brick stone.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Thursday, May 30, 2013
-eciate.
Some people will disturb the peace of every day, their opinions tearing holes in my heart intentionally and unintentionally. Their opinions will relish my vulnerability. They will sink in their bloody teeth eagerly, ravenously. And they will be right to do so. Because I know they are right.
Some people will hurt me more than others, their words doing so much, meaning so little. It doesn't sound the same to me, the way it does to you when you write it to me. You meant well, but perhaps I see it as a path to bloody my own nose.
I am a wounded animal. I splash water in the fresh cuts so it stings. Stings me. Hurts me.
I am words. I will break you.
It's all about me. My pain, my unhappiness. Listen to me. Jeer at me.
Throw your tomato juice at me.
I am your Consciousness.
Some people will hurt me more than others, their words doing so much, meaning so little. It doesn't sound the same to me, the way it does to you when you write it to me. You meant well, but perhaps I see it as a path to bloody my own nose.
I am a wounded animal. I splash water in the fresh cuts so it stings. Stings me. Hurts me.
I am words. I will break you.
It's all about me. My pain, my unhappiness. Listen to me. Jeer at me.
Throw your tomato juice at me.
I am your Consciousness.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
apollon.
They sat together on the rooftop.
"Days like these are long. Not much to do, mm?" The Thin one exhaled softly. He had a peculiar dimpled face; it was a boyish cute face. His side-swept bangs ruffled his eyes as the wind caught between the strands.
The Tall one sighed, longer. Louder. "You want to go down to the docks?" His crew-cut fought with the gusts of wind, struggling to stay immobile. He flexed unintentionally.
Thin adjusted his glasses, leaned back, said, "I'd rather go over to your place." He blushed.
"Not for my sister, you don't. We could just go to the station, see where that takes us?" Tall frowned.
"Alright. I have... eight dollars. You're paying." Thin rose, his knees cracking painfully. He groaned. "Must've gained weight."
The Tall one smirked. "After you just implicitly harassed my sister by turning red after suggesting we go to my house? Fat chance, baby girl."
"Oh, shut it. We're both adults, aren't we?" The wind blew. "... When was the last time you went to the bathroom?"
"This morning."
"Days like these are long. Not much to do, mm?" The Thin one exhaled softly. He had a peculiar dimpled face; it was a boyish cute face. His side-swept bangs ruffled his eyes as the wind caught between the strands.
The Tall one sighed, longer. Louder. "You want to go down to the docks?" His crew-cut fought with the gusts of wind, struggling to stay immobile. He flexed unintentionally.
Thin adjusted his glasses, leaned back, said, "I'd rather go over to your place." He blushed.
"Not for my sister, you don't. We could just go to the station, see where that takes us?" Tall frowned.
"Alright. I have... eight dollars. You're paying." Thin rose, his knees cracking painfully. He groaned. "Must've gained weight."
The Tall one smirked. "After you just implicitly harassed my sister by turning red after suggesting we go to my house? Fat chance, baby girl."
"Oh, shut it. We're both adults, aren't we?" The wind blew. "... When was the last time you went to the bathroom?"
"This morning."
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
cumulus.
When my thoughts are clouded, I will be turned to hear the whispers of indecision. Are they whispers of evil? No. They delay the good until such a time that the good cannot and will not be done. Defiance is forced against my teeth, yet it is not defiance, but confidence. Confidence that my indecision, my clouds, will cover the light shining the way until too late.
Too late, and I have fallen into the great swamp of my own folly. O, injurious murder is my sin: I wish. Instead, the swamp forms from the smallest of mistakes made by my own white lies, so many white lies that the palette is no longer white, but grey, black. Burnt out.
Defiance clashes with defiance. My body is weak. How will I find peace? How will I run from the sorrow of my swamp, my lies?
There is a light shining in the dark. I will never reach this light. Until I blow away the clouds. Until I blow away the cobwebs.
One Breath.
Too late, and I have fallen into the great swamp of my own folly. O, injurious murder is my sin: I wish. Instead, the swamp forms from the smallest of mistakes made by my own white lies, so many white lies that the palette is no longer white, but grey, black. Burnt out.
Defiance clashes with defiance. My body is weak. How will I find peace? How will I run from the sorrow of my swamp, my lies?
There is a light shining in the dark. I will never reach this light. Until I blow away the clouds. Until I blow away the cobwebs.
One Breath.