drink me.

She reaches for it.

It doesn’t so much as say “drink me” but it taunts her nevertheless.

This will be it. Her last drink. Again. Continue reading drink me.

Something that can only be described

I think I’m learning more about myself. I’m learning how to navigate the mind map which has baffled me for the last sixteen years and although I’m nowhere near taking the shortcuts and venturing down the back alleys, I’m beginning to trust these main roads.

Sometimes I get so lost in my own thoughts that I confuse what’s in my mind with reality. A ten minute bus journey is all it takes for something to trigger a particular thought pattern and an entire series of events that are severely unlikely to happen will unfold within the depth of my mind. What is this? My imagination? Because I was taught that your imagination would help you design that story that your English teacher loves, but what I’m talking about just can’t be forced. Continue reading Something that can only be described

Burn out.

Too many people allow their thoughts to be constructed from sharp objects; knives and swords. Too many people have lungs corrupted by hatred. Too many people spend their time existing rather than living.

Our problem is that we aren’t grateful for what we have: half the world are left starving whilst the other half are trying to lose weight. Our thoughts race at three am, when we ought to be wrapped up in our sheets rather than the words that never left us. Continue reading Burn out.

Swing

Early evening, the sun sets. Dark silhouettes invade the pink sky. Coating the swing with paper, but the water still seeps through.

Swing.

Complain about the friends and gossip about the enemies. Whisper tales of the past and scream stories of the future. Sneeze, cough, laugh.

Swing higher.

Let’s talk about why bad things happen to good people. Let’s discuss why the people with the most promise are often thrown life’s biggest hurdles. Tell me why the greatest people in this world rarely ever notice how great they really are. Continue reading Swing

All or Nothing

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Photo courtesy of Matthew Smith.

You play me like a game. I’m a pawn in your chess match and you change the rules as we go. But, like a fool, I’m in too deep and I’m blind to the Game Master’s corruption.

“You’re in this. All or nothing.” But all and nothing seemingly fits much more appropriately. I’m risking it all and I know I will win nothing.

Like a chip, I’m flicked away again and again as you hope for a better deal, unsatisfied with these cards that you’ve been dealt. I’m trapped in your slot machine and I’m dizzy as I spin.

But, darling, this isn’t Monopoly and I’m not your “get out of jail free” card and I don’t owe you any rent. You can’t decide to mortgage me and you can’t decide to trade me for Park Lane.

I’m not your pawn to move as you please and I refuse to abide by your rules as if I’m dictated by your disease.  Gone are the days of manners, “no thank you” and “yes please”. I can see through your disguise but can you hear through my cries? This is no longer a no-win situation and I refuse to fall victim of this state of stagnation.

Continue reading All or Nothing

Hourglass

The sand spills through your hourglass, but I’m not listening. I cannot bear another moment knowing that soon you’ll run out of sand and all that will be left to utter is “goodbye”.

Our time is slowly withering away and I hear it only as a scream. You were my rock, and I should have known that all rocks turn to sand. Continue reading Hourglass

Burn, baby

Found on tumblr

She was hidden, disguised, camouflaged by the branches. The cold licked her face and crept beneath her thin attire, seeping through her skin. Lips tainted purple, she watched from above as the group dispersed throughout the forest.

The forest that once felt alive now weeped in the absence of it’s leaves; habitat, it seemed, to only the people who found pleasure in bonfires and camping off-bounds; people who couldn’t care less about trees.

With no longer a palpable reason to exist, the forest didn’t thrive as it had done in it’s youth, but Laura still found the same peace and simplicity in the trees as she always had. She watched the group – little older than her, maybe even the same age – organise themselves in clusters to mark out the points in which their camp would begin within this most desolate part of the woods. Continue reading Burn, baby