i need...

lately the urge to run away and start over again is growing stronger and stronger.

im trapped, and it's frustrating to say the least. i think it would be beautiful to go somewhere that i dont' know anyone. and i don't have to live up to anyone's expectations.

yes this is a 2am rant, and no i don't believe it's rational or possible that anything will happen in the near future.

i just need it to go down on record that i'm tired. i'm sick of being defined by who i am with you, you and you, and it's been so long i don't know if i ever existed.

and it's tiring holding onto a secret you'll never be able to let out.

just so you remember...

The sun rose today, and no one was as surprised as you.
I wish i could write you a thousand lines for every expression you paint, but it is to late and too little. I've realized.

Silence is no longer a request but a demand -- it is easier to face the world with nothing but a rehearsed mask on your face. Elements of reality trickle in with the rain, the caress of a gentle wind and the lashing of last night's thunder. You feel yourself absorbed into the mud - the sound is muddy, your vision is matted. Can I throw in a cliche? That your path is haloed in thorned roses?

Last night's hangover dangles with the morning rays. Each concession you've ever made embodies itself in each drink you've ever had, like you're drowning those bits and pieces that have made you.

5am morning coffee. Sipping the warmth into your always cold lips. The coffee cup can double as an ash holder later - for your flickering vogue or our eventual flaming i don't know. It's beautiful, intoxicating drugs following each other to poison your soul. I wish humans could be beautiful. Dreams of lighting up the last bit of you that feels into a spectacular molotov cocktail, shimmering in the charcoal night.

This meme is to remind you who you are when the poisons wear off. I know you refuse to leave your blood untainted, but eventually it'll wear off - things always do. You could take another shot, stab, dissolve it on a little spoon over his cigarette lighter, and forget just once more. Remember it all catches up to you though.

Things start to wear off and you write this kind of shit too. I'm waiting for your grand exit like you declared it would happen. I've always enjoyed the silence of darkness, but a little flame here and there wont hurt.

Who knows, fire might warm up the part of you that's always cold.

Hang on, sanity is just around the corner.

the trials of ebay-ing...

starry starry night...

Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colors on the snowy linen land.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

Starry, starry night.
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

Now I understand what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they did not know how.
Perhaps they'll listen now.

For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.

Starry, starry night.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.

Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will...

shape

so empty

memes

remember the days when we swam
carefree, amongst sands of naivety
and shuddered in the blistering cold

whispering when winter descended

remember the opulence of freedom

the glimmering free-flow

because all you have left
is the silence of repression

words dissappear... quietude permeates.

who are you -

- so empty

don't only believe it
taste it.
a drop ............. of cold water
falling in desert's mirage.

silence

SILENCE

I no longer know what I'm existing for, or what aim there is in everything i do. Silence permeates the air from the moment i wake til when i finally fall asleep, interrupted by staccato bursts of forced smiles and the daily repartee that you thrive on. Scrawls on toilet doors echo the loneliness blowing past - echoes that conversation and noise and time with any of you cannot stop.

Of course there's a void - even if I cant see it. I'd like to think i successfully filled it with each one of you that saved me from sinking just when it was becoming hard to breathe, but when you leave i realize it was just a bandage over the top.

Maybe I'll focus on describing the context, like always. Imagine the lull of peak hour traffic, a welcome break from the silence. Imagine, coffee from esmes, cigarette dangling from your index and third fingers, hand animated in conversation over this morning's news or last night's argument. As much as you said you hated it, i know you enjoyed us fighting towards the end, because making up after meant another two weeks in limbo until the next 3am torrents.

Esmes is no longer esmes. You've given up smoking, and stopped driving. Coffee now sits cold in your mug as you rush to go home, away from the suffocating impersonality of Matthews, to play happy families back home.

The magic of words left me when you took them away at the end of it. Relationships since then haven't been able to give them back, and I find myself approaching them all as rebound relationships - someone to help me forget that we once happened. And it is with hesitation that I'm writing again. The unhappiness at being the unseen is gone - the anger everytime we argued has left - the happiness that we once had has disappeared, and all that's left is an intoxicating blanket of sadness. The silence starves me of aim and of words and becomes a recurring theme, hiding on every page of readings i cannot focus on.

to you

You have a penchant for appearing in the most uncalled for of places. How i'll catch a glimpse of you amongst the crowds in the city, craning my neck until you disappear around the corner, nonchalantly, with the familiar stooped gait. Or sandwiched between two bags and a wall in the lift, i'll spot the back of your head disappearing down the matthews corridor, towards the room.

It's not that I'm not over you. I questioned this when I noticed the gold-ish wedding band nestled on your finger, and my mind leapt into a time warp and we were back two years ago sitting back to back on the sand, pondering the meaning of love and fidelity and forever. Wondering what the hell you were doing out on maroubra beach at 11pm at night when you were really, according to your outbox, working on a last minute edit of a paper.

Inbetween the innocence of exchanged glances and conversations that didn't reveal too much, we'd somehow managed to pull off something perfectly logical at the time, and yet in retrospect was an episode of insanity, on one of our behalfs. I wrote more than i ever did when i was with you, and i thought it was beacuse you set me free. I thought we could go on in limbo forever.

In the end, forever lasted 10 months and i spent the next 14 trying to summon words that left my hands when you did. You picked up the pieces so fast i wondered if you'd ever been drawn in by the tide that embodied a dream. And today, when i opened your last present to me and found, scrawled in messy handwriting, words i hadn't noticed before, it all came rushing back.

So the moon still plays with our hearts, pushing and pulling along a midnight stretch of sand. I hope that next time you do appear, we can talk about the nothings and somethings of life now, and you can show me pictures of your family. Because only then will i know whether or not i've truly let it go.