Infernal-Gates

You can't hear what I hear, can you? When I hear Chopin you hear a motorbike engine, or the sound of horse hoof on cobblestone. Cluttered, harsh, noisy - maddening; the sound of the orchestra. Struck by lightning. Oh how it sings to me, so softly. Melodies that weave, dance and trickle, harmonies; deep, longing and crescendoing into endless ideas that keep wake a mind now shocked into action. I can't see what you see, can I?

these old wounds, never healing, but seeping, pulsating tingling through my vains Do I see something you don't? Do I hear things that you won't? Do I feel things that you can't? resonating deeply though the strings of an already broken heart. Can't they feel the beautiful despair? Lost in sobriety, stark images of intensity and strain, the everlasting weight of existence pulling us together, tearing us apart. My tears mean nothing to you. We all share this, yet we are alone. the terrifying embrace of uncertainty, as the suns rises once again.

A heart can only give so much. The flames of joy, the joy of naive thoughts. wounded, reeling, mourning, whimpering, like a lost and lonely wolf, howling at a moon, that never answers. Memories fade, they reach and clasp and scramble for my outstretched arm, they cling to the prescipice, battling the fear of being eternally forgotten. A dreamlike state of disillusionment and delusion. So much we have learnt, so much we have shared. 7 years of beauty and heartache, are held deep inside, and split betweens souls, all connected by memory, if not by reality. Stinging shards, thumping hearts, broken dreams, self loathing, rage. rage. free me.

Weriting makes it seem that thoughts are plentiful, slipping from a pen, made from the most delicate of silk, the most beautious of a fair maidens sweat, pouring from her virgin breast, elegantly presented thoroughsomely in worded words, which mean, when left in a infinite incription, after this catastrophe of commas, absolutely unpositively nothing

I am no longer with them All that is here is flem laugh, eurgh, haha, hmm, sniff So is lifted from the back of blocked eyes thoughtful thoughts aren't really sense. it seems not so fluently adhesive this glue parched paper. the brain? but yes yes, but, but what i'm really trying to say is, to get too, after this malfunction of thought, is i love you.

has it all been said before? words words comma, full stop. words, exclamation! words comma, full stop. paragraph break more words, extension on theme + words - thought blah bah blah bah bah bah black sheep have you any depth. no sir, no sir, i got lost in pretentious wankery long ago.

My throat is a grated cutting board heart'sa rosier than before picked from the floor n'more blood, from claws.

Stepping out onto the balcony, sitting, then waiting breathing the air, much fresher than normal, sighing to light another. the actions, journeys, memories, and recent events are discussed and pondered, yet, i can take nothing in. eventually, i'm a blank canvas, with my brain switched to 'off'. Here watching the leaves fall from the eucalypts, the possums with their beady black eyes, always scrounging for more "Here, eat some carrot" and bush turkeys that look so ridiculous that they even make me smile. What a life, a saviour, except for the cicadas of course, noisy things they are.

Iced touches sting with old frost. accumulated from past years forgotten drawn back, my face contorts- shocked, she strokes my hands ever gently, unknowing of how her fingers are burning- stained, flickering matchsticks. spark the crackling flame again, spitting shards of frozen glass. confused, her eyes breaks away from mine- skin. 43% freeze burn. turning away, she places her forehead against that wall, a mocking dead end. what's left, to upraise trembling wings from an earth, that is suffocating. fighting unforgiving memories, fate. screaming with entrapment, obsessing all focus. what are you pleading? not fleeting thro