Hide and Seek

Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to form,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.



Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.



Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years they were here first.



Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
still life.



Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.



Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Ah of course it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?



Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I dont believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.



Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.



You don't care a bit.

Blend

She's very good at blending into the background. She can disappear at will, if she closes her eyes and concentrates hard enough. She's good at that.

So what makes one want to do such a thing? To close their eyes, shut everything out and concentrate on breathing; on ones' beat of the heart? I don't know.

I could try to explain myself, but perhaps I'd lose myself in the process. There are many, many things that can make you feel lost. There are many more that will make you feel much more alone.

Loneliness is like a bitter taste in the mouth. We've all tasted it. We all don't like it, but we know it will linger from whence it came. In the end it blends away with other sights, smells, tastes and sounds. We take in everything else to make it seem like it's gone away. But really, it's only mingled with everything else you see in the day.

In the night, it's a different story. When everything else blends away into the darkness, loneliness returns. Its tangible and it will stay until you close your eyes and curl up in a ball. Then even the darkness chases away your thoughts, and all you can see are the fiery lights that dance on the back of your eyes when they press down on the pillow too hard.

It's hard, to fight loneliness. We've all lost to it sometime or another. One can be lonely in a crowd of people, all because something or someone is missing. So we blend.

Blending does our mind good. We can take in everything, push the horrid feelings to the back of our minds and keep a smile on our face when everyone is looking.

You don't need to smile. It doesn't hide it. It's there, in the eyes of the haunted and the sad.

She's so sad.

Never

Never EVER use 'fisting' and 'doorknob' in the same sentence. Just don't.

El Sexo

I love visual imagery. I find the Spanish are quite talented when it comes to photographing ones' body artistically. Obviously, I do back my words up with google. Type 'el sexo' into image search and you're going to find many erotic pictures/photos/paintings. Type 'sex' into google and you get links from every porn website known to man (and woman!)

One site devoted to such beautiful imagery (and some downright outrageous) is Sex in Art and if you're ever looking for that one picture to complement your writing, or simply want to peruse through sexual art, you'll enjoy this website immensely. I do believe it's the only one of its kind out in our massive WWW.

Right. Thats it from me*, loving sex and loving art.


*Actually, I'm itching to check the website out, and several others I'll mention in a more substantial post next time. Promise!

Waves

One can feel alone anywhere. One could be surrounded by people, and still feel lost, confused and alone. It's funny what can trigger such feeling..a memory..an object..a person you thought looks like someone you once knew.

So when coming back from the laundry, I was caught unawares by the feeling. I had to stop walking and take a deep breath before carrying on back home. It's disastrous...like floating in the sea. You know there are waves...you can feel them. Just like your own emotions.

You just never know when you're going to go under.

Then again, feelings are just like tides. They ebb, they flow..they grow turbulent, troubled and violent. We are all human, after all. We could write forever on which mood symbolises which element, providing we were in our element to begin such a discussion in the first place.

Emotions don't rule our lives. We can choose to let them, like I almost did when I had the door slammed in my face..Or we can pick up our baggage, laugh at the door slammer's ignorance of polite behaviour and turn away. Easier said than done, but we must try.

The same waves that can drag us under, can also buoy us upwards; carry us to shore when we cannot swim to save ourselves, or anyone else, for that matter. Waves are just what we need. Waves of empathy, hope, deliverance. Not sympathy, pity or preachiness.

I'm a swimmer. I've been told that I'd drown with someone I'd try to save, rather than swim away. This is true. I've been told I'm too nice. I told them to fuck off and concern themselves with what's more important; people who aren't.

This is what puzzles me. Why do people question good when they ought to really question bad? Why is a good deed now looked upon as something slightly sinister, rather than something quite good? Has our reality twisted back on itself? Or are we simply cautious because of one too many slammed doors..?

Weary? No. Wary? Much.

Oyster

The world is your oyster.

I always interpreted that differently to most people, I suppose. I thought when you say such a thing, the pearl stood for the world, and to explore it, one simply had to roll around the oyster's mouth (so to speak).

As I grew older, this view changed. I thought about how oysters try so hard not to be irritated by that little piece of grit, and that if we don't be irritated by the little things, good things will come as pearls of wisdom.

Again, my view changed. I see that just like an oyster, we try to hide the little bit of grit that irritates us so, by building false layers over it. Really, we're all pearls. Nothing but dirty grit in a falsified shell brought on from those around us.
In no way is this meant to be insulting, no! In fact, its quite the opposite. We build those layers to protect ourselves, as the oyster, from being further irritated by the dirt. The layers are protective, allowing us to roll over and around the world -the oyster's mouth- without harming or disturbing it.

Then again...think again.

Oysters being entire worlds? Perhaps not so. Perhaps the oyster is merely a womb, containing us, sheathing us in layers to protect the fragile entity we begin as. And hence, we grow. We grow, and grow...

Until our worlds are caught, wrenched open, and we're exposed to the light. The harsh reality, which we want to run from. Find something to run to, or indeed, just to run. Run from the simple fact that our lives, so sheltered, were never so. We were cultivated to be exposed.

Just cultivated to be exposed. And now we face that exposure every day of our lives...The constant scrutiny, the knowledge we seek to fit in with the crowd, the waking-up-in-a-cold-sweat world that we live in. We were made to be scrutinised, selected and then separated. Just like what our social rituals do. It doesn't matter if we come from the same oyster...it doesn't matter that our history is the same. What matters is what happens after. What we make of ourselves. Our pearl to be the biggest, the best, the most beautiful...

We're all pearls in this little oyster, we are...

And our imperfections are exactly what make us perfect.

Foreword

I'm writing again. I don't know why, but the urge to write is as overwhelming and natural as basic instinct.
Here you will find the wanderings of my mind in their simple, understated glory.
Now I have to ask myself "Why write again?"
'Why' is indeed, the question.
And I, am looking for answers.