Red Shoal

Stifled within yourself. An island in the middle of a red lagoon of pulsating nothingness.
You're mesmerized by the thought that the mind carries the body and not the other way around. In your case which carries which has never occurred to you.

There comes a certain moment when you manage to humiliate yourself and feel such degradation so deep somewhere that you begin to hate with this fiery intensity anything that makes you think.

Whenever you will pick yourself up and dust off the failure that others have piled upon you, there will always be others waiting to pull you back down again. Those that claim to love you are the most capable. You will let them think for you, all the while remaining an island and at the same time will try to float into a pathetic merged existence with them.

There is no respect. For you, or for your scathing resentment of all that there is around and beyond. All this while you never realise, that more than anything else, you have this need to destruct.

When you peek over the edge of the island. The red is shallow and your reflection is upside down...

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.