Untitled

(Originally typed out on 06th June 2008)

She poured out another shot and downed it. After an entire week of agonizing, she had made up her mind. She was going to go talk to him tonight, no matter what. And as she slipped out of the dim bar determinedly, she even had the entire conversation planned out in her head. What she would say in response to every thing he could say. She had even decided where they would talk and how she would bring about the topic. She was sick of the thoughts rattling in her head. And tired of trying to guess what he was thinking.

He stood outside on the balcony, a half forgotten cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. It was a nice night. He looked back into the house and saw the file lying on the table. An odd expression flitted across his face, and then he smiled, taking a deep drag and exhaling slowly into the cold night air. It was going to be a long night.

So, after a few more shots of vodka - for the warmth - she made her way across the busy streets towards his house. It was a pretty night. The city lights drowned out most of the stars, but the ones that she could still see were beautiful enough. She was wearing her black dress. The one she was wearing the first time they had met. She wondered if he would notice, or remember... She didn't think so... She didn't know if she wanted him to... It would be less painful if he had forgotten. She didn't know why but she wanted to see him while she was in it, considering it was the last time she was going to see him, at least for a while.

He made his way into the house and sat down in the dimly lit room. He glanced up at the file and muttered to himself. A short laugh followed by a frown. He looked away from the table and his gaze fell upon the small box lying under a chair. Standing up, he made his way towards it, a strange look upon his face. Kneeling by the chair, he pulled out the box with slightly trembling hands. It fit in his palm, and he stared at it for a long while.

It wasn't like she wanted him back, she reminded herself. It was just that this needed to be over, and the only way she could do that was talk to him, get it out of her system. She wasn't going to cry. No matter what, she was not going to cry. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she made her way to the sidewalk where she sat down at the edge of the road, resting her head against a cool metal pole. She knew she shouldn't be drinking. Not tonight. She pulled out a cigarette and a matchbox. Unable to light it because of the way her hands were shaking, she rummaged around in her bag until she found the lighter. Click. Light. Drag. Something fluttered to the ground, and as she picked up the faded photograph, a tear finally found its way down her pale face.

It seemed like he hadn't moved for hours. He knew he shouldn't open the box. God knows he wanted to, but he couldn't. Not now. It would surely destroy him. Turning it around he traced the crack along the side of it with his thumb. He closed his eyes as if something had just stabbed him in the heart. Why tonight? Why did he have to find it tonight?? Pictures ran through his mind and his eyes shot open. No. He couldn't close his eyes right now. It made him remember. He didn't want to. Not now.

She looked up at the house. The address seemed right, though it looked as if no one was home. She walked up to the door... and suddenly, it all seemed too pointless. What was the use? She was kidding herself if she thought one conversation would actually help her. But this wasn't about her. She owed him an apology... No... She owed him an explanation. She stared at the door bell for a while, and shook her head. A rain drop fell from the skies and she turned to leave...

He stared at the box for what seemed like eternity. The cool wind told him it was about to rain. Rain. He hated the rain. He hated it because it reminded him of strawberries and long sad conversations... and because it reminded him of the last time he had seen her. Had she been crying? It was impossible to tell because of that rain... Standing up suddenly, he made his way unsteadily to the phone. Holding the receiver up to his ear, he dialed the all-to-familiar number. It had been so long, yet every digit was engraved in his memory.

She walked away quickly from the house, suddenly afraid of running into him. Her flight out of the country was in a few hours. A few more hours and she would never see him again.
No. That moment passed by the last time it rained. As the water started falling faster from the skies, she looked up and smiled, glad it was raining. But, it didn't really matter anymore... This time there was no one around to hide the tears from. And there were no tears to hide. Making her way onto the porch of an empty house, she leaned against the pillar and slid to the ground. There was no point. None.

An image of her in her long black dress made its way into his mind and he hung up before it connected. What could he say? There was nothing he could offer as way of explanation. The truth would only hurt more than the silence did. She couldn't know. He couldn't let her find out. The file on the table seemed to mock him. Leaning against the wall, he raised his eyes to the ceiling. There was no point. It was over.

And so the door was never opened, and the phone never answered. Simply because she never knocked... and he never called. And the faded photograph continued to fade away in a corner of the bag while the broken box stayed broken. The rain continued to fall on two people halfway across the world from one another... and even though it shouldn't have mattered because there was no point... it continued to matter.

Girl in the Mirror

She leaned over the gray stone sink, her dark eyes empty and unfocussed, seemingly staring at a point beyond her own distorted reflection. A sad lonely song played on in the background, but she seemed oblivious to it. Someone was banging on the fragile wooden door. The girl didn't move. She did not even seem to hear it. Silence filled the air. She kept gazing at whatever it was that only she could see. The song ended and another began. And her eyes filled up with tears.

For a while, she let them swim there and then... she blinked, a confused look flitting across her face. Suddenly, she reached up and angrily wiped away the forming tears with the sleeve of her white too-big T-shirt. As she accidentally dragged the sleeve down her face, the frown changed to a grimace. Her head snapped up to attention and she stared at the girl in the mirror as if seeing her there for the first time. Her eyes drifted over the straggly dark hair that fell over the pale face, down to the dark blank eyes. Her gaze stopped at the red line drawn across her left cheek. She reached up slowly and winced as her fingers brushed against the mark.

Her eyes widened as the screams filled her head once again. The dark kohl had smeared across her pale face and for a moment the girl in the mirror frightened her. The empty lifeless eyes, the lack of expression on her face, the detached pain the bruise was giving her. For a moment, it wasn't her reflection she was staring at, it was her ghost. The banging began again, but she paid no attention. The words in her head drowned out everything else.

The song changed again. People began to shout, in worry, in fear, in panic... but the girl was too busy listenin to the voices in her head, staring into the mirror, afraid to reach out and touch it because she didn't know whether it was the glass that lay shattered or if it was just her reflection. Either way would hurt her, either way she would break. Either way, it didn't matter, because she knew that there was no real difference between her and her reflection.

A faint smile played upon her lips as the blackness swallowed her. Just a little longer.

(original post - 10th June 2008)

Bored

If I said I wanted to rob a bank, and one was robbed before dawn tomorrow, would any of you give the authorities this link? This is all hypothetical of course. And even if it wasn't, it would just be a designated decoy. Then you'd feel pretty stupid about telling them, wouldn't you? So don't.

Anyhow, Thums Up beats Coke any day. And both of them are better than Pepsi. Just a stray thought.

I had an interesting conversation with a friend today. Interesting because I love how hard someone can try to get you to react in a certain way. Seriously though, the next time one of "you" asks me to grow up... (open threat)
Ever heard of dealing with the log in your own eye before going after the splinter in another's eye? And you know who you are.

Now that that's out of the way, what next? I'm really very bored. I need to get some sleep. Fuck. I just remembered I had to read a case for Fly. Damn it! She's going to throw me out of class again, isn't she?

Sigh.

Confession

The cold steel rail was just another addiction
Another substitute for an incurable affliction
Multi-colored spirals let me know
It isn't up to me to decide when we go

Ages of absence and consequence
make carefully cultivated indifference
your one and only defense
And even if you forget your way back down
There's always another way to the ground

Keep only so much that it isn't worth stealing
The sky is all that you need to be feeling
Let all of the rest just burn and fall away
And don't ever let them make you stay
Standing proud, uncaring and tall,
Kicking and cursing at the cold wall
Don't ever bring back yesterday
And today stays a dreary shade of gray

The flickers of worry
Pasts that you just can't bury
Tell you in whispers so low
One more time might be the end
but there is a lot that time doesn't mend
and it's really not like I don't know

It was easy to learn
and it's easy to burn
Now that I know how to fly
I understand why, you stay in the sky
I'm still waiting for the call
and they're all waiting for us to fall
I forget the way down
or maybe I never really learned at all


They talk so proudly of love
A memory is a dear dead dove
All I can see are cold chains
And forgetting is all that remains
It's always been so much easier to lie
when you're high up in that blue sky
and they never taught you the way down anyway

Confessions and surprises, Search the premises
Truth is easy if you know what the price is
And I know I only lie to save your skin
But my confessions are over, you're my only sin

Though anxious eyes are what you left behind
You know they'll always be there
I don't know what's on my own mind
And sometimes, I forget to care

The wings are just a mere substitute
Are we replacing more of the clever lies?
or is it only their over rated truth?
I can't come down from these bright blue skies
And I don't think I want to

So do me a favor and ask them not to call
Because they'd be right and I'd only fall
Though that's just another way to the ground
I'm not lost, I don't need to be found
Don't make me go, just let me stay
...I never learned the way down anyway.

Untitled

It always starts the same exact way, with the unreadable credits rolling and the three second shot of you walking away. At first it was confusing. Then it became annoying. And now it hardly makes a difference. Sometimes, it doesn't even bother me that I don't know how it ends.

On some days I can hear a shot ring out at the very end. But usually, it ends when the shouting begins. Or maybe I just don't hear it over the din. I can't decide which I would rather wake up from. None, definitely, but unfortunately that isn't exactly an option.

I went back home the other day. Funnily enough, I still call it home sometimes. Though I guess I'll stop after a while. After all, it hasn't even been an entire year. I curse and scream a lot lesser, or at least, that's what I'd like to believe. I never cried.

The first time, it was nothing more than a nightmare. The next few times were enough to make me wonder. And now it's just part of the whole routine. Just a part of me. Like a song that won't go away.

After a few months I told them that they had stopped completely, because I was tired of the sympathy in their eyes. Fools. Well, at least they let me stick around. And I guess I should be grateful. It's not like I have a lot of homes to choose from. One's already nothing more than rubble.

Sometimes I wonder if you're still alive. There. I had to say it. I know it's silly and saying it out aloud just makes me feel stupid. But I do wonder. And I know all of us do. Of course it isn't something anyone will ever dare say. But I know it's true. Especially the kid, but then again she was always a little too optimistic.

I suppose they'll stop. The dreams I mean. They better anyhow. Not that it bothers me anymore, but it keeps me here. And it makes me wait. I don't like waiting. They'll stop. After all, it hasn't even been a year...

Ouch!

In the last 11 days I've managed to burn myself, get glass shards to embed themselves in my skin, cut my finger on a can of beer and then while opening a can of ham. And yes, even had the guitar string burn my thumb. The most annoying part is that it takes me very very long every "next morning" to try and figure out how it all happened in the first place.

Sigh.

Well, at least it beats getting stitched up with no idea why your head won't stop bleeding.
:|

House of the Rising Sun

See them!
Bearing gifts and flowers
And smiles so wide they should hurt
Dressed in fancy coats and dresses
that trail in inevitable dirt
"You look so very truly lovely dear"
"Why thank you, so do you!"
And then a turn, a glare, a sneer
"I've always hated that shade of blue"
The lights are grand, the palace large
and each is mesmerized
And as they dance their practiced dance,
Every moment frantically memorized
Look how cold their eyes are
as they judge you for your fall
and if that's what grace is supposed to be
You'd swear you were never there at all

Watch them!
Them, on the other side of town
Children of the blackest nights
They make their way through the dark
By walking on silver moonlight
It is no palace of light to which they trudge
but a hill under starry skies
And you see the roads they've left behind
along with remnants of once-binding ties
Their speech is odd, their words often cruel
Yet laughter rings true into the night
No hidden dagger behind any back
and no need of any illusions of light
There is never any dancing
but there's always music in the air
And if you can walk the moonlit path
You're always welcome there.

(Now I know there are middle paths
but honestly, I've hardly seen one
and if I had to choose between them
it would have to be the "house of the rising sun")


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