Bright lights, Dark characters

I will work every day for the rest of my life, trying to be honest when I say, “I’m happy.”

Being Lost In Time

When I sit silently and stare at nothing in particular, I’m not thinking. I’m not lost, I’m not angry. I’m not even sad. I’m just deeply, deeply tired.

The Girl Speaks Like A Woman

Oh, the tragedies we make. Truth may come at a high cost, but that’s the price you have to pay.

The Shelter Is Also The Prison

“We could spend the day here, watching the grass grow.”
Are you sure? There's still that email to send to your boss, and that bouquet for your mum, and taking your niece to the park, and the world to save.It's ok if you want to finish those first.

The Town To The Outcast

Every sword ever held, in its dreams was a pen.

The Eternity of Ignorance

We could walk and walk and keep on walking until we get to a lake. Then we could walk into it, until we stride along its sandy bed. And we could stay there forever, learning how to breath.

The ID

Steel and concrete and brick and violence; that's how I was raised.

It’s Not Only Angels With Wings

He watches the bird fly away, joy flooding through it as it has freedom at last. Oh, how he longs to be that bird. He glances down and notices, perhaps only for the first time just how thin he is; skin tacked tightly to bone with no muscle between. His heart races as he raises a shaking arm and slips it through the bars, followed by his torso, now skinny enough to do this, finally dragging his legs out behind him. He stands proud, perched on the narrow ledge of the window, pure exhilaration sweeping through him as he spreads his arms and start to laugh. Such power! All for him. Only for him.
Gently, with great deliberation he tips forwards, turning a graceful summersault off the ledge and then he is flying, and it is the most alive anyone has ever felt. He laughs a hollow empty cackle. Laughs as he sees your face swim before his eyes, blurred with tears. Laughs, as he thinks how relieved his parents would be, that they are freed from the burden of him. Laughs, at the bad press this would give the institution. In that moment, he is the bird.
And he died laughing.
He died free.

The Way I Live Now

You will go looking for a new home in places you have always hated, and, inevitably, find fault with everywhere you go. You don’t know it yet, but the place you’re looking for, you already left. Maybe you can’t get back now.
Maybe you can.

The Written Suicide

When writing your view, I encourage you to think for yourselves while you express what I'd most agree with.

The Sun Hides Sadness Behind A Mask Of Light

When I was little I would grow bored of the long afternoons and wander out of my garden and down the street. Always in the same direction, with the sun behind me. No child ever walks into the sun; remember that if you ever lose one.

The Falling Of Snow (and ash and blood)

Your despondent eyes

were pale enough to be

all thirty-one shades of

December

The Walking Corpse Looked Down And Smiled

I asked for a lifejacket and you threw me an anchor.
Still, I was the one who grabbed for it.

(Image by Hachii-Chan@ http://hachii-chan.deviantart.com/)

The Meeting

It's dissapointing to know that whenever we meet, you can see straight through my nonchalance

The Last Music I Want To Hear

It’s no coincidence that I hum the same song when I think of you.

The Inevitable Ending

Years from now, children will sit around a fire and talk. They will tell the story of us. Maybe the details will be amiss. Maybe the setting will be changed. Maybe out names will be different.
But if you are there, and if I am there, they will have got it right.

The Salute To The Sun

Hope dies last, and die it will; for there is no longer anyone willing to carry the torch, for fear of burning their hands.

The Want Of Glory

You're in love with death, like the rest of your generation.

The Biography Of The Night Sky

I will love you until the moon looses its footing in the sky.

The Breaking Down Of Walls

I made a mistake, I still don’t want to talk about it. Maybe tomorrow.
But the tomorrows are running out.

You Will Become The Stranger

So you'll take the long walk home. Stare out the window of the train. Take pictures wherever you go. Seeing the whole world starts with your town.

Holiday Pictures From The Gods

Fixed, like a photograph; in the one I kept of you, you are hiding your face and that’s good because somewhere you are moving, your lips get themselves round words, ordering latte or a cocktail, kissing. Everything we’ve done, you are repeating somewhere. You are the Orinoco flowing between two points, the points are nowhere near me. You’re moving on, you are moving and there is sense of direction in each day for you.

I’ve nothing. I have nothing because the things I have are straight and square, and your life curves, it streams, it curls like smoke, it swirls like cream in coffee. Sometimes I pretend that I stand my lips between you and your words, between the sips of your drink, between your sighs, and I catch yours with a kiss, and my lips buzz with you; but then the doorbell rings, or a breeze blows and cools my hot mouth, it dries the dampness on my lips. Memory is not kind, there is too much supposition filling the cracks to make you smooth.

Born Into A Grey World

I would wish to dream in black and white so the colours of the world would look so much brighter when I awakened; but if I did, how would I ever go beyond the tightening restraints of reality?

The Brightest Moon Rides On A Starless Sky

"Don't try it," he said. "If your life consists of reading and writing and looking at the snow, you'll wind up like me. Fantasy for thirty years."