Imagine Foolishly, but Imagine.

We’ll start with a sip then before you know it, we’ll inspire another song about another drunken blur of a night.

That kid with the glasses threw-up on the floor, just as the dad walked in the door.

There’s another guy running around outside, like the goon-sack he’s hugging just saved his life.

It started with your hands on my hips, your tempting breath on my lips.

I want- wait, did he just run into a door?I think that guy just ran into a door!

They’re all crying during drunken D and M’s, I slurred when I said I’d stand up for them.

We never listen to techno NEVER! We’re all singing A Day To Remember!

Our conversations go a little like this: Do you remember all that year 8 shit we did?

Did you think we would all be drinking by now? I figured this was how I would turn out.

We won’t waste tonight.

I taste the vodka on my tongue.

We won’t waste tonight.

I’ll let the smoke fill my lungs.

We won’t waste tonight.

Let’s hope we last long.

We won’t waste tonight.

Because tonight we’re wasted but nothing feels wrong.

And she stumbled through the door with her boots creating pools in her wake and the Hem of her skirt tattered and muddy.The pleading emotion in her eyes was somewhere between furry and fear.

The Dog-tag on your chain

I can only guess I’ll be the one

to tear the dog-tag from your chain.

You’re failing and

Everyone’s failing and

My leg is caught in your knotted hair and

your sinking.

What am I to do? Cut your hair so I can float?

But I mustn’t and 

I can’t.

While you sink my pride won’t get the best of me.

I will hit the bottom with you and

drag you along the mud until

I pull your lifeless body onto the bank and

tear the dog-tag from your chain.

Then I’ll rise, I’ll get back on top.

I will reach the peak with memories of the bottom and

My last lover’s dog-tag hanging from my chain.

Ice-cream kissing and tracing my skin. Breathing on my hair and tracing my ribs. Distracting me from your work. Making me lose focus. Making me pause. Noticing how I look to the side when I think. Telling secrets. Asking questions. Being the last goodnight and the first hello. Calling me cute and lovely and silly. Reaching for me again after I’ve pushed you away. Knowing what to say and knowing when to not say anything. Pecking my nose. Making laps up and down my neck. Comparing your hand to mine. Holding my hand tight. Catching my gaze. Not letting me leave ands saying you’ll never let me go. Finding holes in my logic. Pointing out my grammatical errors. Talking in whispers. Having shoulders more comfortable than pillows. Rubbing my legs and loving my tummy. Towering over me. Leaning down when I want you to. Engulfing me in your arms.

Love Me when I Scream

Hug me when I run.

Kiss me when I frown.

Touch me when I turn away.

Love me when I scream, when I tell you I hate you.

I pretend I don’t want you to see how much you want me.

I’ll give in, I always do.

Just don’t stop.

Kiss Me, Kiss Me

Kiss me, kiss me, I’ve forgotten the taste

Kiss me, kiss me, give me what I want

Kiss me, kiss me, you fucker.

Kiss me, I love you, kiss me.

Kiss me, kiss me, burn me.

Let me breath.

No.

Kiss me, Kiss me.

The Greengrocer

I wish I was the greengrocer. What a life he would lead. I’m talking about the greengrocer you see in movies or read about in books. The character who gets a fleeting description about his half-grown moustache or his ironic green overalls and perhaps if he’s lucky, he gets one line in the story saying, “Hey, you gonna pay for that?” You know the guy I’m talking about? You see him at the front of his family-owned store with his little hat and big nose, stacking tomato on top of tomato, minding his own business. That is, until the lovable yet clumsy main character of the story accidently knocks over the carefully stacked tomatoes and runs and hides from the now furious, screaming grocer.

Then the scene is over. The focus is back on the delightfully flawed main character. Nobody gives the grocer a second thought. Nothing else happens to him. He closes up shop and heads home for the day. If you were to really look into it, you would presume the man has a wife, a few kids, a dog possibly (unless you decide he’s a cat person). Maybe he had met his wife in high school and dropped out because they both wanted to have their own business.  He most likely had aspirations along the lines of becoming a lawyer or a magnificent inventor, but of course, with his first child on the way, he had to prioritise. His story could include anything, really. He could have been a motocross champion back in his youth. He might have been drafted to become a surgeon in the Vietnam War. He could have a twin brother or own a holiday home in Spain or collect bottle caps!  Heck! He could be the leader of an international corporation who are responsible for choosing where all the extra cheese goes when they put the holes in Swiss cheese!  

The point of the matter is the audience doesn’t care. The grocer is not what this story is about. The greengrocer can practically do what he wishes and he needn’t worry of disapproving film critiques or unhappy readers. Sure, he has to pick up his tomatoes every now and then, so what? He’s a free man who has no one controlling his story. His possibilities are endless. That’s what I want.

Canvas

This is a story I had to write for a school assignment but I got so into it that I just kept writing. I would mean a lot if you could read it and give some helpful comments…? I warn you that it’s quite lengthy, so only read it if you’ve got time to kill. Many thanks.

Read More

I Once Knew What It Was To Die.

Angels had called out,

“You will receive only what you wish, never more than you imagine.”

Such a shame for those who wished nothing more than eternal darkness to devour them.

I once wished for white clouds and golden gates and long tables holding banquets. No more, though… Those visions of mine have been destroyed.

Some days I wish I could go back to before the doubt rose, to when I wished the same thing as everyone else. To when I could still see the God everyone was talking about.

Now my vision is clouded. My wishes are impossible to see, and the only thing that is certain is that they are not what I have been taught to wish. I’m lost in a see of ideas and suggestions and opinions. None of them seem right.

What if I cant wish correctly before my time comes? Will I be left only thinking for eternity? I try so hard to wish, but it only leaves my mind in a constant train of thought, going in a circle, never reaching it’s destination.

I once knew what it was to die. I was so certain. Now, it’s gone, and I can’t possibly find an answer.

That Faithful Raven

I recently wrote this. It’s kind of a song, I guess. And there’s probably more to it.

.

.

A silver sword cuts in line with the horizon

It spills the light of a rising sun

Golden drops, Like liquid rays flow down the metal

Go tell the boys a new dawn has begun

-

Your lonely eyes see meadows filled with ripened peaches

And purple waves crashing into foam

These early days bring skies in all directions

The colours convince you you’re not alone

-

Not all Doves will be the ones

To grace you with the green

-

Your jealousy brings blacks and whites into the rainbows

you can’t deny you feel alright at home

Seven times, you’ve told lies about your company

But the colours convince you you’re not alone

-

Seven days it takes to sail these hostile places

That raven finally came back with a tree

Fallen dogs, your soldiers cannot stand the ocean

Preaches say there’s no need to believe 

-

Not all Doves will be the ones

To grace you with the green