GRRRRRRRRR

Stars shining bright above you,
Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you,
Birds singing in the sycamore tree,
Dream A Little Dream Of me

Just say goodnight and kiss me,
Oh, hold me tight and tell me you miss me;
While I'm alone and blue as can be,
Dream A Little Dream Of Me.

Stars fading, but I linger on, dear,
Still craving your kiss;
I'm longing to linger till dawn, my dear,
Just saying this:

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you,
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you,
But in your dreams whatever they be,
Dream A Little Dream Of Me.

Dream A little dream of you and me.

(Your Silence) In Couplets

If in time you feel I'm cold
My hair's too long, my form too old

You can say goodbye without a fear
For I'm too proud to shed a tear

I won't scream, or shout or sob or yell
When next we meet I'll never tell

That for a time my heart was yours
I'll keep sheathed my hidden claws

The time we spent will stay between
The things you said and didn't mean

I'll seal my lips and play along
We both know you did no wrong

You never said your words were binding
And I asked for nothing and you were obliging

You and I are done and I won't grieve
I always knew that you would leave

*inspired by conversations with Vogon Prose

What is wrong with me? And other questions

I need release.

I feel compelled to write something beautiful. That I can reread every time I feel the pit open at my feet. Something to take away from the ugliness in my head.

Its a four letter word, Hope.

So is life.

Stage Directions

I should be in a white dress. The wind, it should be blowing, flinging my hair into my aura, wrapping my dress around my ankles, and then blowing it away.

I should be at the beach. Not the bright, sunny, colourful flotation device beach, but the crashing waves, steep, crumbling cliff and scraggly grass kind of beach. Walking along the edge of the cliff, staring down at the churning sea, unconcerned by the fate of my white dress in the vicious wind.

Perhaps I should clarify. I mean a white dress, not a White Dress.

I should be barefoot, having lost my shoes somewhere along the way. I could not recall where. Or what shoes. Or if I had ever worn shoes at all. I should be crying. Though, I always find that difficult. Knowing that I should be crying, I am suddenly incapable. I might cry. Let's leave it at that.

I walk, barefoot in my white dress perhaps in tears, to the edge of the cliff. The clouds, for the sky is gray with them, they pick up speed. Rushing by, blown away by the vicious wind, I should almost be able to hear them screaming. I should think, Just like I can almost hear myself screaming.

There should be rocks, in the ocean below me. The water around them should be white, and frothy. The rocks in contrast should black, slimy and jagged. There should perhaps be some sort of poetic echo, between the rocks and the water, and my white dress and my black hair.

I should step, to the very edge, with it crumbling beneath my toes and falling to the rocks that welcome it below. I should think, Just like it will welcome me.

I should lift my eyes to the sky, I should extend my arms as if pleading for salvation, I should turn my eyes into the wind and close them, I should lift myself onto my toes.

And then I wait. I wait.

Valhalla

*footsteps echo*

Ummm, hello? Sir? Are.. are you here?

*silence*

I have a problem Sir, a big one. I need your help.

*more silence*

I know you'd probably say that since these conversations happen in my head, the reason you aren't here is because I don't really know what to ask you, but I would really like to speak with you.

*yet more silence*

I'm sad, and I need guidance. A reality check. Something real, something true. Something, something I can use to bounce back from rock bottom.

*nothing*

Please?

*The lights dim. The curtains close. The stage door shuts*

*footsteps echo*

This will make no sense.

How deeply ironic, that as I compose myself to write, 'Pay For What You Get' begins to play.

It has always been special, this song. I must have listened to it a few hundred times in the last ten years, but every time it plays I discover its message anew.

How apt, that the man who introduced me to it seemed to never stop paying.

I am afraid. Of everything.

I live at the edge of life. Almost there, but never quite able to take that one last step, and really live. Afraid that I may not be cut out for life after all.

If only, I could escape. The small things that keep me here, make me happy, temporarily.

Am I searching for a fix. Another fix. The tragedy, of giving up drugs to embrace the far deadlier addiction of want.

I could eat the world and hunger still. I could be filled to gorging and hunger still. A perpetual resident of Satis House.

The art of repression. Which I had mastered. My mind is regurgitating all that has been forced into it since I was four years old. And I am covered in vomited anguish. Decades of it.

I thought I was unhappy because I didn't fit into that dress anymore. The time I spent, wanting to be this thin again. It never changes anything really.

My best friend isn't here, for me to drown my sorrows with. Tonight I must find another way. To hide. Forget. Feel loved.

And I want. More than anything, to not want. I crave the absence. The silence. When my mind was peaceful. Empty. What will happen, when I have nothing to think about.

Ants. Mindless. Marching. Ants Marching.

Meet my magnifying glass.

Seeing is Believeing

And I light another cigarette.

The blackness in my heart. The blackness in my lungs. The stillness in my hands that brings you to my mind.

And I light another cigarette.

The rush of nicotine in my brain. The need that consumes me every few minutes. The absence of thought that bends my conscious to you.

And I light another cigarette.

The back of my mind, that thinks about you without asking. That wonders and replays and relives though my hands and my mind are busy. That fuels the need for something more.

And I light another cigarette.

And it doesn't change a thing. At the end of a day spent in motion I turn to switch of the lamp, and the light catches my ashtray. Brimming with ash and cigarettes smoked to the bitter end. A reminder of every time my hands and mind and heart reached for you.

And I will light another cigarette.