The surface of the Earth is tumbling over itself, fighting to make itself alive
Atoms, not long ago, within rocks kill and consume each other
The Universe is in free fall, stars and planets huddle together in galaxies
But even these huddles fall through empty space
Hurtling to who knows where
My mind is also hurtling, torrents of information pour in
Ideas absorb them and jostle for pre-eminence and control of this temporary form
To what end?
I’ve framed this all quite horrifically, but it only seems horrible while I hope to control it
A sickening lurch as I reach for something firm as stars and galaxies and minds spiral and crash violently into one another
But if I let go, it becomes a dance
To what end?
Rather, why not?
Two organic drops collide
your face results
Flesh and skin drawn tight
across the contours of your bones
that make me fluster at their sight
A pleasurable rush and a fluttering heart
A billion years of evolution tell me
Your symmetry is worth my time
You see, the fairy tale barely mentions that
Ariel second guessed herself,
Tried everything in her arsenal,
But still wasn’t good enough.
The fairy tale barely mentions
How long Belle took to open up,
Protected by walls and fortresses
She didn’t know how to bring down.
The fairy tale doesn’t mention that
Sleeping Beauty got cold feet on her wedding day.
The prospect of forever was just too daunting.
She had no time to find herself.
The fairy tale doesn’t mention that
For every Cinderella enchanting their own Charming,
There are ten girls dancing at the ball
Who didn’t get their chance, who won’t find their prince.
And you see, I’m just a girl.
I’m not a firework that dazzles,
Leaving an imprint on the back of your eyelids.
You won’t get caught in my short, tangled eyelashes.
There’s not much to see
In my edged smile and sharp words.
In my ribcage, there’s just lungs and ruby red blood –
I’m not made out of starlight.
I’m not fearless,
I’m the girl who spends every moment afraid.
I’m not the lioness –
I’m the deer that’s ready to bolt.
I’m not a daydream Disney princess,
I’m not always sure that everything will work out
And I’m beginning to worry
That ‘happily ever afters’ aren’t for everyone.
Look up. Look far.
The night lures you in.
What do you desire?
Beware the bewitching hour,
She loves me. She loves me not. Why won’t she love me?
His mind unravels his past decisions, picking them all apart. Where have they gotten him? Lonely and heartbroken, that’s where. Alone and in need of solace he walks by the lake, the trance of the moon as his guide, as long as he can see through his tears.
The stars sparkle their mysterious glare. So far away and yet, they seem to smirk at his state.
Then he sees it. His chance. His star. The answer. It swoops down, weaving its path, unabashed and unapologetic.
He could wish.
He could hope.
He does hope.
He does wish.
Now she will kiss him. Now she will love him. The stars can work their magic.
If only it were that simple… right?
Why the hell not?
The star shot so quickly she could have missed it. One second earlier or one second later and she would never have seen it. Do people call that a sign? she wonders.
She’s not one of those girls who asks for someone’s astrology sign when she likes them to make sure they’re ‘compatible.’ She doesn’t subscribe to the black puffer life. She looks like a dying fish doing pilates. She’s no buddhist, hippie, tree of life loving, bandana and khaki wearing kind of girl.
The weekly horoscope readings are for those people who need some sort of affirmation in their life. Some divine guidance.
They’re too weak to find it themselves. They must realise it’s just an old, unsuccessful excuse of a writer who hates the life that’s supposed to be giving them their ‘meaning’? Pathetic…
But… then… why did she see look up at that exact moment? Why did it have to happen at that exact moment?
Oh well. It’ll do nothing if I wish or don’t wish. Cause it doesn’t work.
She tries to reason with herself. But the thought is there. The seed planted. And she’s a critical over thinker. So now, there’s no hope of going back.
Fuck it, I’ll wish. But it won’t come true! Life just doesn’t work like that. I work hard. That’s how I’ll get to where I want to be. To where I need to be. And then everything will all be worth it.
Ha…They always fall…
Who’s the pathetic one now?
Please send help. I’m in need. Like desperately. Like now. Why won’t you listen?
They turn in circles inside a cave of mirrors. Reflections mangled. Distorted. Pathways are blocked.
And time warps. Everything folds in on itself.
I need a miracle here. Everything is falling apart. I don’t even feel like I’m rock bottom – I feel like I’m sub level thousand!
Their desperation is the most obvious cry for help.
They see the answer. A literal light at the tunnel. A beacon to bring them out. And they go for it.
I need… I want… I’m longing for… I desire…
They do realise Santa Claus is a marketing campaign?
They wait for the response.
But the providing is on you.
Dreams are for the hopeful,
Luck for the skeptic,
Fantasies for the lost.
You have to grow the lemons to make the lemonade.
You have to lay the yellow brick road before you can follow.
Make a wish
Take a chance
And then go out and do it.
When the hustle dies down
And silence slowly suffocates,
Mind wanders about
And trespasses guarded gates.
With each creak the hinges give way
A little bit more
And heart heavy, mind blank,
Can no longer ignore.
What will the waves of memory
Wash ashore this time?
Caught off guard again…
Voice lost…can only mime.
Try to struggle free from the sand
But sink deeper.
Step away, footprints are
Devoured by the salty reaper.
Conflicted, confused, confounded
Desired both freedom and bond –
Taut or untaut?
When I say
Your words are like needles,
Pricking every fibre of my humanity,
Threatening to go deeper every time.
When you notice
You’re on the verge of violence.
Names hurt worse than sticks and stones
So don’t pretend that they go over my head.
When you realise
What you’re doing does not help me.
All it does is further stigmas,
Files me to the side
Of what you think is normal.
Is it really that hard?
Does your right to use your voice
Trump my right to be alive?
You have your power – now use it for good.
Before it’s too late.
When your arms are around me
I feel a gentle, kindly breeze
That dances on my skin
As it wafts up from the seas
We play on the sand
Building castles of our own
An expanding empire
For us to rule alone
But now it just feels strange
Our bond is somehow broken
I am a tide drifting away
My fear is slowly awoken
The waves pull me off my feet
And your world is that much brighter
For whenever we embrace
I know that I am holding tighter
There is a very real stream that flows from the beginning of life to now
In a warm little pond some cell split in two and each of the children took their grand inheritance that was a small sack of fluid to keep alive the molecular stories that their ancestors learned
Long after, something heaved itself from the maternal waters and onto the mud
Mothers wrapped their babies to keep them wet, to allow them to collect themselves, to allow the fables that their ancestors passed down to instruct the matter within into a new form
I came from the waters of my own mother and our long story sings through my veins
I look around and see all the different ways that story’s being told
Life makes the rocks and the air and the water breathe and scream and sing
We don’t just wake up the Earth, we are the Earth waking up
How many other worlds have woken up? And how many ways are there to be awake?
The air is cold and crisp
when the Syren calls to him.
Her voice is cool,
it flows along the deck
and summons his feet to move,
his heart to thump.
Water crashes around the ship,
yet lays calm and black
around her waist.
He leans closer.
What a strange thing to see in the night:
Gilded locks caressing the velvet sea,
a half formed smile,
fully exposed breasts.
The thrum and crash of salt licked waves
The boat creaks but he does not hear.
All is held,
held within her gaze.
She whispers to him and he leans close,
“Come to me fisherman
For you know I am lonely,
Come to the water,
Come to me.”
weigh a man’s heart.
They hold him still
‘til the cloth of his pants
her body wrapped securely around him.
And then under,