Monday, January 30, 2012

Pink Ribbon Scars

The typewriter leaks ink on the muddied floor of my mashed up mind, but here in white crayon the letters unfold beneath blue splattered lines. I have scribbled in unfathomable words the discord of heart crimes and regrets. A waxen figure cuts the page, all pale silhouette.

A character of bittersweet memory and cloaked intent, she is my queen of disconnection.

Her tongue stabs with paper cuts in inkblot stains. This is my saviour. This is my wax scrawled beauty, half-sighted and sore. In broken dreams she haunts me.

Friday, January 27, 2012

#Nightgale Flash Fiction 4 of 4

#flashfiction

“But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retarts: Already with thee! Tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,”
- Keats (Ode To A Nightingale)

Writing is Immortality

The cursor on the screen still blinked, the story now finally inked. Centuries later, she’d put pen down to paper, her guilt now finally in print.

The agent on the phone, to the writer unknown, outlined a few edits to the tale, but all were spoken to no avail. The writer was adamant that not a detail lay dormant of the truth she had harboured too long.

If only she hadn’t done that which was wrong.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Just Tell The Truth

I don’t understand. Why does nobody tell the truth? Why don’t we all just speak our minds instead of hiding our true thoughts and feelings? If you want something then you go get it.

I figured this out in 2009. Not so long ago, I know, but at least it happened.

It may take me a long time to be sure on what I want or feel, but when I know that’s the truth of it I’ll go for it. I won’t give up, even if it means waiting for a very long time, because everyone deserves to be happy. And I would rather be happy and true to myself than a miserable liar.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

All The Lonely People…

I get this Beatles song stuck in my head quite a lot. I’m not sure why. My dad used to play them to me when I was little. He’d swing me around to their music until we were both dizzy and had to sit down.

Sometimes I feel as if things like that happened in another life. It’s almost as if I can’t remember them as me, but I do.

Anyway, my favourite song then was apparently Octopus’s Garden. The thing is, I only know the first two lines of that and I don’t remember the tune, but Eleanor Rigby sticks with me like no other.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

I’m Not Gonna Write You A Love Song…

Well, I didn’t get it. The library job, that is. There were a lot of candidates though so there was probably somebody with more relevant experience than me and I was a bit nervy about the whole thing. As a friend at work told me, it is a bit ‘shit', but I suppose at least I still have a good job that I enjoy. I’m lucky in that respect.

I’ve also got some more hours at the second job so I’m hoping that will help with the whole birthday funds thing as I’m twenty-two next month. Maybe this time around I’ll have a better birthday.

Friday, January 20, 2012

#Nightgale Flash Fiction 3 of 4

#flashfiction

“Darkling I listen, for many a time, I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die;”
- Keats (Ode To A Nightingale)

 

To Die & Become One With Nature

His eyes they closed, a simple plea to the dark enfold; forgiveness for what he was guilty. His heart it slowed inside his chest now a mortal beat within his breast.

Nearby, the ghost, she whimpered still. She’d seen his lover have her fill then flee the scene with nought but haste and fresh discovered immortal taste.

Yet here he lay as in crept the burning light of day.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Do You Remember The Way I Held Your Hand…

…under the lamppost?

Yeah, lyrics again.. I can’t help it. Sometimes this modern day poetry is all that makes sense. I’m feeling a little better this morning. A little more comfortably numb. I had a mini sort of breakdown in the corner of my mind and took myself off for a walk in the dark and the cold by the canal.

I’m so tired and so stressed out, but when I try to sleep thoughts just push on in and mess with my head. Lyrics and questions and problems and too many answers. I’m driving myself up the wall. And when I do that I post it all here or tumblr if it’s to specific people who I don’t reckon will read it.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Dabbling

In case you hadn’t guessed by the montage I made in yesterday’s post, I have had a lot on my mind lately. A lot of it hasn’t been my fault and whenever I get to that comfortably numb point something or someone happens again to throw me right off kilter.

It happened in that week after new years with that message that he probably never meant, because that’s the only way I can explain it without hurting all over again and driving myself insane. Besides, if he’d meant it he would have told her the truth, finally ended things the way they should have been ended and turned up to tell me how he actually feels no matter the time of day or where I was.

And yeah, if that happened he’d maybe have a chance.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Look Around You

Well I went to the job interview last Thursday. I think it went okay; perhaps not brilliant as I was a little flustered. In fact, by the end I was so frazzled I accidentally reversed the car into a trolley stand in front of the trolley collector.

No damage was done to either the cars, trolleys or stand but it was a sign of how much I’d gotten myself worked up. It only bumped it anyway.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

#Nightgale Flash Fiction 2 of 4

#flashfiction

“Why dost thou pass away and leave our state, This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate?… No voice from sublimer world hath ever, To sage or poet these responses given – Therefore the name of God and ghosts and Heaven, Remain the records of their vain endeavour”
- Shelley (Hymn To Intellectual Beauty)

Immortality Comes To You, You Do Not Go To Immortality

Her lips like rosebuds slumbered dead, and yet they whispered all filled with dread a bleating warning to his ear, a phantom rumour filled with fear. “I ask you not to take from her the crimson nectar that you prefer–”

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Dandelion Clocks

I seem to be waiting on a wish…

Taken by me.

I don’t mean to be, but it looks like that is what has happened. I’d tried to convince myself that he didn’t care and he has ruined my illusion with his likely meaningless message.

Sunday, January 08, 2012

Why Do I Do These Things I Do To Myself?

I went out again last night, mostly to forget and escape the thoughts in my own head.

Be still my beating heart…

Needless to say, it didn’t work. I left my friends and came home because the thoughts and hurts were too heavy on my mind and heart. It’s stupid when something so little as a text can do that to you.

Friday, January 06, 2012

The Theorist Deviation

My baby died the other day. And by baby I mean my car (before anyone panics). Her name is Pandorica and her battery died. So joy of joys, I’ve had some more financial stress buying her a battery.

Luckily this happened close to pay day and I have some great car engine savvy neighbours, one of whom fitted the new battery for me. So Pandorica has been resurrected. Huzzah!

However, this still means dire finances yet again this month. I’d like to know when that is going to end. Where are the leprechauns with my pot of gold?

Thursday, January 05, 2012

#Nightgale Flash Fiction 1 of 4

#flashfiction

“That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim”
- Keats (Ode To A Nightingale)

Through Hemlock

The forest clamoured with ghostly light, filtered through the broken boughs and slinking in the phantom fog, whereupon he supped the bittersweet taste of darkened memory. White flowers clustered close to his dream dazed head, poisoned stars in his forest bed.

Barefoot in mirthful mind she danced, a figment of his stupor advanced.

Monday, January 02, 2012

Welcome to 2012

I have an interview lined up for a Saturday job. Unfortunately, the interview time is when I’m at work. I’ve called my supervisor so hopefully I’ll be able to take that afternoon off to go for this interview, but she isn’t back at work until Tuesday.

I wouldn’t think she’d object to my taking that afternoon off as, after all, the job I’m going for is a Saturday library job – still working for the council.

This will leave me with three council jobs (if I get it).