|
Short piece.
If I was to stand at each corner of this vast, entire earth, at the same time (by chance of course, by some fantastic miracle) and see one quarter (I guess four points, four corners) from each place, I would pick out the most beautiful parts and paint them onto a canvas for your eyes to see. I would choose those places that despite being discovered were still secret and hidden and would be a place for you to run. A place for you to sit and wonder, a place for you to forget whatever it was holding you down. Your troubles were a set of tight ropes, unbreakable by any strong spirit, but perhaps by a few strong characters combined those ropes would have frayed and split. As the ropes got tighter, perhaps you struggled, which would only cause more grief. Eventually, you gave up and you stopped fighting, the ropes bred and took over your body, crushing you and taking the life right out of you. (And who is to blame?) Of course, it’s the wrong time to be thinking of you, but when a person slips out of your fingers and you lose them forever, you can’t help but then how it might have been. What if this had happened, what if that had happened, what if you said this and heard that? Or the past. Maybe that is what’s to blame? Heck, why am I blaming someone (something)? I read this back and it is unstructured, it is awful and it makes no sense but it’s what I want to say and I’m not going to change it. I would change it for you if it meant you’d come back. If it meant I could grab time by the scruff of the neck and tell it that it was wrong and to go back and change what it had done. I would.
This is a mess. But not like a bedroom mess, when trousers and shirts litter the floor with crumbs and dust and pieces of broken jewellery. Magazines and make-up, paper clips and broken pens, scrunched up paper and all sorts of shit. This is the sort of mess you can’t get your head around, when you’re so angry and upset, so irritated and just so God damn confused. I can safely say it definitely hasn’t hit home, and I don’t know when it will. I want it to have happened, because I don’t know when it’s all going to kick in. It’ll come, and it’ll take me down like a fucking bomb. We all want you back; we all want you here with us. What I’d give just to see some simple things. I’d like to see the colour of your eyes, to hear the sound of your footsteps or just a little something of you that I could keep just for me. Perhaps I’ll just have my memory, but memory is a very poor thing. I want to hear your voice with my ears, and see you with my eyes. Not just repeat what was said, and think of all the images of you in my head.
Just let me know what you think.
__________________
I intend to die with my spine to the sky and a bird in my ribcage singing such a sweet line I'll wonder how I never wrote it myself.
|
