creeping: state of sleep

Two little bottles staring quizzically, whimsically whispering Eat me, Drink me, it was a cold autumn morning and I rejected the notion to be. Telephone boxes were red then, scratched perspex burst the sun, interior was always cloudy. I was tired inside my eyes, too much sleep passing the limit of anguish, exiling hunger to the point of banished famish, my abdomen had vanished I couldn’t eat. I held the transparent grooves to my lips, drops moisturised my throat, it hurt to swallow so I quit. I read the instructions, which was dyslexic since I had no intention to obey the printed. Writing was on the wall. Didn’t have mobiles then so nobody would call and I was too far away from anyone to hear voices if they stuttered so in defiance I stood tall.

Cars drove past, oblivious, caterpillars like sheep. I wanted all the emotion to cease, the pain was sincere and I didn’t want to be here. The white dots drowned inside of me, flood gates opened, one after another after another self-prescribed perspective respectively. That was easy, standing in peace with enlightened knowledge I was going to be free, I wasn’t even sorry for any blotted tears, they’d only have been cried through fiery heat and hidden curls, taste my life restrained by laws made only for girls.

I returned to the communal concrete box where the planted seed had died. Sight highly incensed with bright white walls and reflections, bodies rush by ignoring my introspection. A concerned few words pointed my way every now and then. I didn’t answer, mind preoccupied with my monarch of the glen. I sunk lower and lower into my seat, time for the bench to be hungry. It wanted to suck and sup on me until I was no longer, me. I didn’t mind. It didn’t matter, my body became elastic and I joined with the plastic, ecstatic that I grew blind.

My eyelids were heavy and my lashes grew like a beard weaving their mesh across my cheeks. I could hear the world, an indistinguishable machine gun of bullet words, bleeding wounds disappeared. Too many pills infiltrated my still frame, I could barely breathe, head face down, my canteen is empty. I’m sleeping. Each pore seeping into undefined realms, a tiny piece of conscious thought finds the walls are swirling, trapped in a twirling vortex, I’m dizzy, hands of gravity pushing down on me, can’t you see?

Can’t feel below my neck. I’m living in a dream and I am writing the final lines of my shortlived journey. My head echoes within cavities of pink cellular structures ruptured, causing damage in savage gardens, unable to sustain exorcisms, each ghost a Russian Doll heading into infinitesimal infinity, inside the other is another and another. My shoulders collapse under a skull belonging to an identity I forget, crushing my collarbone under the weight of the fall, as densely accustomed to those swinging iron balls dangling from trains of shackling chains, my realities refract backwards and I start to wonder if I’m sane, or even if I am wondering at all.

I can feel the space in my head, pressuring the underneath of my scalp, shouting and aching, the numbness is escaping but all I can think is I am. Discombobulating. The nothing bleeds from my ears and my lobes throb, cochlea spirals in resignation, hands me written notice in mime, Nobel peace prize should be awarded to my limbs for this collaborative rob, synchronised in designer breathlessness asphyxiated by an out of body all-powerful mob. Hurtled against clinical whiteness but it’s just colourless light, quiet grows loud enough to shatter my chattering synapses, lapsing and silencing relentless voices internally exhaled. I can barely feel my heart beating once every two blue moons, my chest is not rising neither is it falling but the stillness moves.

Trapped, unable to speak. Too weak. Paralysis. Panic-stricken I shriek, but my lips are asleep. Tingling.

odd: one out in a crowd

what am I but a word, sums it all up,
stripes across my tattoo’d cups,
endless hours, my seconds never stop,
blinks hush and my lips drop,
all I asked was;
Can you put me back together?
and you sat thus;
ripping out my feathers,
dredging broken jigsaws,
my masked and classy outlaw,
heart eaten therein and moreso,
blood drips across my torso,
conscious words interrupting
a too-conscious subconscious flow,
it’s subliminal,
he’s criminal,
mafia five-oh
screaming survival,
lyrics recycled,
it’s a tribute yo,
heard it all before,
trinity of secluded psychos,
got this one song on repeat,
perfect strangers meet,
it’s a mind blow,
got nothing to even eat though,
biting on melodies, beat and bass,
it’s a waste,
mandem playing same games,
making out like i’m their flame,
they’re moths to my planes,
trying to chirps these lame sayings,
same old chat lines, same old rat rhymes
trying to make up for all your lost time,
my last dime,
hiding behind heartbroken crimes,
from the floor of grime I spit
mimed minds suffering on this crucifix,
spluttering; position classified,
and clarified:
I see the truth and transparent lies,
everyone else runs munching on pies
but here I am secreting Pi…
don’t wanna cry no more,
my retinas are tired
sclera’s red raw
i’m seeing double yellow lines,
instead of inverted paws,
he dropped honey in my eyes:
poisoned me: i’m blind,
cruelled my heart in framed times
but it’s all gone astray now,
it’s called affray somehow:
my life,
a gigantic hiccup without the wind,
falling sand grains, an hour-glass of sin,
I’m livid, because I want to eat him,
learn about the art of living,
but he’s given up the giving,
for a frayed ribbon of string.

sarcasm: in dating profiles

So I shortened this but I’ve changed my mind, let’s do detail for the physical and mental analysis of the person you are currently and momentarily curious about…but on these things it changes with the blink of an eye right, so these words might be pretty futile. All you really want is a photograph. That’s where you’re hoping these words will take you. Something you can ogle. In the meantime, I will torture you with more paragraphs and if you haven’t died of boredom by the end of it, maybe you will be lucky enough to find yourself requesting an image of the best photo I can find of myself.

My objective is to save you from asking any questions because, and no offence or through any fault of your own, although it’s not you but collectively, everyone as a whole, are asking the same questions and answering these same questions is becoming ridiculously tedious – at least this way you will know whether or not you think you are “compatible” as I don’t want to waste your time or my own, life is too short, if you like what you read then you know what to do (ask for a photo *yawn*). So, in essence, I’m actually doing this for your benefit, I’m that kind – I know, you can save the applause for later.

I have short short hair – yes, it used to be long down my back, I’ve had it short for about two years now, less hassle in the mornings. But guess what, hair grows. It’s a scientific miracle that your parents should perhaps be made aware of but you’re not strong enough to say anything are you? I suggest you move on to the next one.

I’m a bit random, quirky, odd – in a good way. I won’t say I’m unique or different as that’s just a cliché every person bangs on about. Mimics: “I’m like nobody you have ever met…” – well that would be because every body is emulating a ‘celebrity’ or those Photoshop’d pictures in magazines, so yeah, you wouldn’t be the same as anyone you’ve actually met.

I am not sure how I have come to be single when I pray to God every night for an everlasting love but nevertheless I am indeed here and I have not hooked myself up with ten kids or a fraudulent benefit scam for a house, a previous marriage or a divorce or separation or anulment or an engagement that went wrong or bodies stuffed in the boot of my car. CRB check is completely clear. The only blemishes are the ones that appear on my face after eating too much chocolate, and fish and chips. And yes, they really do give me spots, it’s not a myth. Maybe a few blips on a credit check but hey, we’re in a recession, have you not noticed?

I don’t appreciate waking up so early in the mornings, if I could choose, I would much rather be a vampire (minus the bloodthirst). I’m currently working in project management for wireless equipment so customers can import their wondrous technologies into various parts of the world, I’ve been doing this for almost two years now – oh my god time flies – opportunities present themselves for travel and when they do, I take them wholeheartedly. So far Tunisia and Belarus have been scribbled on to my world map. Previous to this, travel was limited in the UK when I worked in a construction consultancy. When I was in book publishing, I managed to get myself to Germany for the Book Fair. It was awesome. Just because I like reading, does not make me a geek. And moreso than ever since I haven’t managed to find a book to engross me recently.

I’ve lived in London, Oxford and Manchester, I’m originally from the West Midlands but I don’t have the crummy accent to go with it (thank my lucky stars for that one) I guess you’ll be thanking your lucky stars too. I like having some me-time since I have nobody to spend any we-time with. I prefer quick plans and randomness rather than long-ass diaries filled with plans. Where did the fun go?

I have compassion, understanding, I’m not complacent, I don’t take things for granted, I’m generous, open, trusting, selfless, loving, etc etc etc you can look up more adjectives for “stellar” in the thesaurus if you like…I’m actually really quite vulnerable and shy and quiet and self-conscious (bet you thought I was going to say self-centred, ha!) and I realise it’s also not good to publicise weaknesses but hey, I’m brave and learning and growing as a human all the time. I make mistakes, it’s part of my journey to death.

I prefer tropical desert heat to subarctic temperatures hands down. I would love to travel extensively to the not-so-touristy places, Transylvania (rescue me from Dracula, hm, or find me one) or Zambia (it’s lush but potential kidnapping so need a big strong man to accompany me), but would of course love to look-see the Taj Mahal just to witness symmetry because I’m weird like that… I have a thousand dreams that I have not lived out yet because I wanted to share them with you. Cue the aaahs. I know. Fetches sick bucket.

I’m sporty given half a chance, would love to take up abseiling again and do the mission impossible climb down the desert rocks, a spot of sky diving would also be a great thing to do (golly gosh – I have lived out this dream with the Red Devils only last week!) …also used to be amazingly good at badminton and squash though like I said, it’s a bit of a difficult game to play “on my ones” (down with the kids don’t you know)… I dabble in a bit of creative writing so that’s why I tend to write for England rather than talk for it…I used to work in publishing remember and I have a degree in English Literature, yes, it has come in helpful thank you very much!

What am I looking for? Well, that’s a good question. I ask the universe all the time. Perhaps someone who will love me for the rest of my life, as I will them. It’s a mutual thing, partnership, balance, nobody on a power trip – please leave immediately if you are, close the door behind you. There’s no reason to forget your manners.

You shouldn’t be high maintenance or selfish or living in a bubble, you don’t mind staying in or going out, you don’t mind the loud or the quiet, you should never keep me waiting or be late (unless you have a proper reason), and you should want to have my happiness at the core of your very existence because your, our, happiness will be the only thing I will strive to maintain. You should be Merlin AND a Knight of the Round Table…a comicbook hero without the double life thing, Spiderman without the spider thing (scared of them but my vacuum is currently of assistance), Superman without the kryptonite (can’t have someone else being in control of your weakness), so I’m not really asking for much…open-minded, uncontrolling and the ability to rustle up a snickers smoothie on demand would be, well, mortal heaven!

Love can only be sustained and maintained and reach the fizzy heights of butterflies if two people are able to grow together as one with the same outlook on life. It has to be a combination of both otherwise what’s the point in the two of them even trying? I’m not sailing on the Marriage-of-Convenience boat nor am I sailing on the Titanic.

It would be nice to be together for the rest of all time; happy ending; fairytale; I’d (and I’m assuming you would as well) obviously prefer it to be rainbows all the way and it would be nicer if it happened without the seven midgets or the evil step-mother but sometimes, I need to be the big bad wolf and little red, sometimes you will need to huff and puff too, just have to roll with the rough to slick out the smooth.

I’m resilient enough to cope with that, the question is, are you?

misty fables and lost dreams

Owl waits for pussycat to strum his guitar,
she sits humming, a-treasuring her sitar.

Crashing asteroids in orbit, so near but yet far,
razor teeth sink into embroiled embroidered hearts.

False start at angular smoking blocks,
chiselled jaws metamorph to sharks.
Hark! Hooking for sharp carps,
mermaid plays her cordial harp:

looking for love, kind that comes unlocked,

need security not fifty thousand-carat rocks,
fins steal shows though, cunning little mocks.
Bark! Little hen ran away from fantastic Mr Fox,
holes in the sailing boat tied at the docks.

Hocus pocus, cure her stillness,
the curs’ed lady of shallot.

Split mezzanines staged on the level:
disorderly, disobedient and dishevelled,
blacksmith branded a handy piece o’metal
for silent minds as ring finger settles

disputes: avidly shotting a pot a kettle.

Little miss saint: dangerous rebel
begets a child-angel sacrificing devil,
medieval force reckoned credible,
conceivable kudos justified lamentable.

Jewels encrusted in star-crossed skies,
lost each other rocking corpsing lullabies.

Broken fairytales, twisted jowls,
indeed ‘tis a pillaged murder most foul.

fate, dope & gory

she dropped a clanger,
bags ready and packed sir,
fed up of you: creep, thief, liar,
Melchior, Balthazar, Caspar,
cold frank incensed murder,
fakery gifted: murmured,
schizophrenic shafted her,
shape shifted shackled her.
love turned him stranger,
blinked and blanked her,
strip her down bang her,
string her up hang her,
tie her hands strangle her,
observe her neck: broken angle,
watch her eyes roll backwards,
poor show: effort lacklustred,
sweaty palms lacquered,
too late: already jacked her,
knuckle dusters: jaw crackled,
scared dared bladdered,
scarred marred scattered,
stirred, shaken, staggered,
window souls: jaded daggered,
whassup: whatsapp’d sip of swagger,
nylon-lycra glowed: ripped, laddered,
pulleyed pins plastered: blasted,
I have the power: universe mastered,
but none of it mattered,
cut, hurt, bruised, battered,
illusions shattered,
paper packages unwrappered,
loose change clattered,
rain on pavement rattled,
too weak to battle,
alibi fixed and factored,
she can’t leave me: i made her,
i’m the best you ever had ma.