Fracture Me

I worry that by the time I feel qualified to write what I want to, it will be too late.

Like flies

to a festering corpse,

dredging the filth

and the rotting

swarms of black thoughts,

It hit

engulfing adrenaline

dragging the lake

of cum and blood,

of lust.

Glistening gashes, bruises

Wide eyes,

that are still in their sockets

lungs brimming with blood

concave chest and fractured skull.

Don't move,

don't make a sound

but listen for a gasp from

blue lips,

trembles or long lashes

brushing cold skin.

 

And He screamed

because he didn't know how,

but he had,

and there was no

going back.

tbtf

On cue pull out your hair.

Inject direct narcotic dreams, the dream police are coming. Glazed eyes, grazed knees and carpet burns from last night's neurotic attempts to claim affection. Hands in the air for pushing blindly on in search of what, of love? A rush of blood to the mouth. That's it. Scarlet gush, crimson fuck, like it or not bites and burns, bruises and black eyes. A quest for 'love' when all this is yours, if all yours is mine. An easy trade for a willing slave; the mirror only shows up the body parts that don't match, a pick and mix of carved up flesh and strangled breaths. I can control your breath, I can teach you to endure worse than anyone else will dare to test you with. Ask, it will start. Beg; 

Shake, scream, cry, plead; too beautiful to fuck, but what happens now, your death . . is love.

I'm Gonna Hit You So Hard Your Children Will Come Out Bruised

Splitting headache;

the split open

with a knife

puncture any organ

inside, type.

His skull, bleeds black

down his sorry spine

no soul in sight.

Unforgiving throbbing,

thought out snaps

of synapses;

slide the blade in and

JERK

our sin is complete.

His head is conquered

with only late reactions,

contortions and spasmistic

contractions

to show for his master's

migraine of spite.

Stand in front of the mirror and challenge your reflection, I beat mine every time.

Playing Dead

The end is in sight but all my thoughts of the future are marred with resentment. R E D is the colour of love, of blood, of splitting flesh and bursting vessels. Draw the scalpel through our dissatisfied surface, across skin that crawls and through wounds that gush with adrenaline for what might have been.  Cut and paste.

No one ever asked if it was okay to be made this way, the wrong way round. Design faults; stitches and scars mark the way forward. One solid block of muscle beats away regardless of it's packaging, oblivious to bitterness. Parallel to here are our alter egos playing out the side of things we spend so long wishing we could be on. I am alone but I am alive.

Last night I dreamt of two men, together. They did not touch, only stand a breath apart and move around, infatuated with each other. One lay the other down and stood over him with a rubber mallet. He proceeded to slam the mallet all over the other's body; cracking the rib cage, splitting the bones in his arms and wrists, shattering half his face and knocking the wind from him. Only once all his emotion had been spent did the man drop the mallet and claim a kiss from his broken lover. 

Does the mind's eye see beyond this muted stream of consciousness, to our parallel existence? No door or path seems obvious; maybe that is our heaven - for our souls from what we know as reality to merge with a version of everything that has been perfect and running alongside us behind a veil of perception all along. Death then, calls us.

But we do not live to die. Being alive; having breath and a heart that beats, feeling and thinking and knowing and wishing. 'Now' is no intermediate stage, no practice run, no dress rehearsal this is it. A fraction of time in the scale of things to be something, someone worthwhile. Invincible; I fear nothing and I do not dread the end.

Heavy, aching heart beating out love and hate. Beautiful, bloody heart. 

Thumbs and eyes.

We Started Nothing

Nineteen days behind with my garbage. a) I have been away b) upon return I have been struggling to catch up on sleep c) my room needed repostering, and so 

Spring Harvest 2008

One of the biggest events in the Christian calendar; a conference, a festival. Either way over 20,000 believers and non-believers alike crammed into three weeks at Butlins (@ Minehead but a replication at Skegness also churns on) to listen to talks, to talk, play the punter at performances of every variety, to worship God, make friends, learn and live and learn to live. Be as cynical as you like, week 2 was worth waking up for. 

Unlike previous years, I decided to steward, mostly because this means the whole thing is free inc. food, accommodation etc. but also because I am an avid volunteer. . . Donned in fluorescent tabards and armed with radio headsets our team worked from 7.30am-12pm every day for the entire six day Week 2 (10th-15th April) and seeing as Abi and I had attended Good Charlotte's Southampton tour date the night before leaving on my excursion the whole thing was bloody hard work. 

As expected, the whole team was super friendly and up for a laugh (although there were a fair few fat/old stewards who did next to nothing but sit around at venue entrances) and I happily accepted hundreds of comments and compliments about my hair. Didn't get on the wrong train on the way home like I did on the way down, and collapsed for a few hours before waking up to go back to work the next morning. SIGH

It was worth it though. 

Good Charlotte

Tuesday 8th April OH YES

FYI my sister Abi and I share our birthday on 14th February. She almost burst my eardrums when I delivered her present to her; two tickets to see our long-time favorite band Good Charlotte. There was a tiny part of me that was panicking like nobody's business imagining the worst case scenarios i.e. Good Charlotte would suck live. But now I don't know how I could ever have doubted the band's ability to put on a good show!

After queuing for about an hour and a half in the freezing cold we got in near the front and were subsequently almost crushed during the first song ('The River') as the crowd surged against the barriers. Being used to rough gigs, I was far more worried about losing Abi/Abi getting trampled because apart from her being much shorter, smaller and lighter than pretty much everyone else in the audience it was also her very first concert, ever! Rightly concerned, I moved us a bit further back away from where a couple of mosh pits were breaking out - not soon enough, once we got outside afterwards we could see her feet were black and blue with bruises. My feet didn't feel a thing through my Docs, Abi will have to invest in some for next time. 

Anyway - it was incredible! Southampton Guildhall is smaller than a lot of big concert halls/stadiums etc so even though we were a good couple of hundred metres back we could see the whole band really well and pretty close up! Surreal, they all looked like they'd stepped out of one of my posters. Joel and Benji had a fair bit of banter going on; the band did a cover of The Cure's 'Love Song' dedicated to Joel's 3 month old daughter (w/ Nicole Richie) Harlow Winter. And they announced that Billy just got married. All the old favourites were played, including 'The Anthem', 'Get Your Hands Off My Girl', 'SOS' and 'Hold On' as well as 'East Coast Anthem', one of my favourite tracks all time, from the first album and ending with a massive 'Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous'. 

 See you at the show. 

Oh and it snowed!

Catch up: Jimmy, Baz, Sam and I went to the beach on the last day of term. Next day = ill, ill, ill and had to miss Soph's birthday infiltration of Guildford's clubs (sorry!), Tuesday was Southampton shopping and Good Charlotte (rock on!), Wednesday - Tuesday 15th @ Spring Harvest and the last few days re-doing the posters on my wall, sleeping, seeing Jim, watching the last episode of Skins, catching up on How To Look Good Naked and the new series of Shipwrecked. Today: driving to Basingstoke and re-dying hair. Funky.