End of the Night

"This is the end, beautiful friend.
It hurts to set you free,
but you'll never follow me.
The end of laughter and soft lies.
The end of nights we tried to die.
This is the... end."

There's pictures of Morrison all around and I smile at the irony. I declare I don't drink and find myself staring moodily into a glass of rum and coke (rum hardly, coke loads) ten minutes later.
There's a boy there with witty banter and sexual innuendos and he makes me laugh.. but then he can never make me smile and that, I suppose is the true test.

I get a polite query about a refill and realise I'd rather just have coke instead. Lots of coke, lots of ice, and lots of lemon. I brood over my second drink and smile at how there used to be someone who would have known that without having to be told.

The Idiot

I'm a part of this thing and this thing is a part of me. Sometimes I hate it. To the point where self destruction seems to be the only option, and just when I'm about to, the thing begins to purr. Like the selfish cat it is, it entwines itself around my legs and arrests me right there, because it knows that it too is at stake.

When dogs begin to yowl at night, I take solace in the thing and it takes solace in mine for it. Always there are things that I would like to say to it but always I choke.
One day I asked it... "do you think i'm happy?"
It smiled at me and said "atleast you're not unhappy..."

She smiled coyly at him and he grinned back. She grew courageous and began to walk away.

"Hey STUPID!" he hollered.
She turned, and a stone hit her on the right side of her throat.
"She's and IDIOT", someone said.
The others screamed in delight.
"Idiot, IDIOT, Idiot!"
"Let's pelt her with stones!" - the small one said.

I'm such an idiot... she thought.

Night and Day

There were hours of sunshine and minutes of pain.
Seconds of ecstasy existed in both. My knowledge of the dozen rotations upon an axis was limited.
Once night fell, the recollection of golden moments eluded me and one by one the instances of hurt came and fenced my bed. The length of the ordeal could not be measured and the expanse which it covered was shadowed in moon light.

There, perched upon a gleaming bough sang a lark. Further below at a window sill, a sparrow morosely pecked at bread crumbs. The lark had perhaps forgotten the five dozen seconds of ecstasy, the sparrow had perhaps never been in the sun.

If It Should Be So...

An old journery has begun once more,
We're going where we went before.
Peeping from behind a broken door,
Perhaps we'll find what you're looking for.
Deep down somewhere in a fiery core
The love of yore, exists still pure.
Expectant always but never sure...
In this life.. and forever more.

Sleep Visions

She smoothens his hair back from his forehead and leans in to kiss him. A deep slow embrace with hesitant whispers in his ears which leaves me with an emptiness that makes my sleep pretend to slumber and wakefulness a dream..
I hate drunk people.

Sometimes when I lie with my eyes shut and breathing regular, I can feel sleep tossing and turning inside me. Dark men in dark clothing stand and whisper sullenly by my bedside. Once I have even felt a gentle carressing of the neck and frigid kisses from lips belonging to someone with a voice made of velvet.

Often the room is filled with the weeping sounds of a small boy. Afraid of the dark he is. He tells me that people follow him around the dark house and he unwittingly leads them back to my bed and into his sleep visions. I hold him in tight embrace and sing him a lullaby about mine.

When it's finally pink outside, sleep discards us...