The Moments Between

There's a chair in the middle of the room,

It presses against carpet with four thin legs

and is stuck rigid

forced to endure.

It's master gives no promise

that it will be relieved of it's duty,

the wooden frame groans

as decaying muscle waits.

Brown jacket sits on an unfamiliar lap.

Naked pockets inside lay thin and sick

as the material weeps over knees

and waits.

Foreign hands curl gently and lame;

they fall loose, then rise

as jacket smothers hair and face

and becomes engulfed

in a smell that stains the fabric

from the outside.

Amoré

I want to share this moment's warmth

And sing it's softness with a breath so sweet,

that it would curl around you and hold you tight.

If only I could reach those strings and play those notes

you so easily release into the air,

that transcribed from your voice, your touch, your love,

locks me into a synethesia of rich colour

that bursts beneath my feet

and keeps me         floating.

The shiny wall isn't always blue.

Blank stare
With grim expression.
A face that can only be related
To an empty pit,
Of something ill-fated.
But she's soft-centered,
A smile begins to melt the water,
The image falls, and begins afresh.
Something new, something young,
Something with a dress.
A woman that once sung 'impossible'
Now with a posture so strong, yet still fragile.
She's independant, she's renewed,
And beside her feet, is a glorious sight.
Unlimited tins of paint, unlimited light
To a canvas that is as wide as the horizon.
She became the artist.

A Wonderful Pair of Silver-blue Eyes

There was once a boy of fourteen,

Standing by the road

Watching leaves chase his feet,

As they ride the April wind.

For a moment, he becomes alone,

Blossom settles onto the ground,

And inside the hood of his favourite coat.

His silver-blue eyes watching the world,

From where he stood.

In the distance, the faint sound of engines

snorting fumes on the main road,

And the seagulls yelling irregular tunes

To the cloudy sky; of which was of a grey melody.

But his smile was warm,

His bright eyes forever shining,

For there was the most beautiful song,

Singing inside his heart.

The Happiness Machine

To calculate your overall happiness, you take out a few counters from The Box. Lets say... A yellow counter for happiness, and a black counter for sadness. Now depending on what kind of mood you are in, affects the currency exchange rate, but lets say you're feeling quite neutral right now, so each black counter is minus one, and each happiness counter is plus one. After picking out several counters from the box, you realise you're on a minus number. All your worries and fears have been drawn out from The Box, and they stare back at you coldly. You'll want to add more yellow counters because happiness is a good thing right? So you try and reflect upon the good things - almost desperately to get to '0' or a plus number. Sometimes this is quite difficult, and sometimes you count the black counters as minus two or three, because you feel quite sad.

But no matter your calculation, you don't have to stand by it. When have numbers or math ever served you in a light-hearted conversation with your friends, or the feeling of warmth - either from the sun or just simply from a smile? Take a break from fighting the world, and make your own personal revolution. Break free from sitting in that dark room and counting... And make your own rules to happiness.

A warmth for my own.

 

“You didn't believe me did you, but there are some promises I intend to keep.” He said with a small smile, but a full expression of guilt and regret. She said nothing and looked away from him. He didn't bother trying to make eye contact, but knew that somewhere in her empty shell she could hear him. “I'm even putting your past friend behind me. Moving on and everything. Even though they – and you – all said I wouldn't. Couldn't. But I have. And now I'm back.”

“Back?” She repeated in a light, small voice that held doubt and twisted sarcasm.

“Yes. Back. Guess you're not alone any more. So...” He sighed as he sat down beside her. “Why did you bring that past friend back anyway? In here? I thought you were the one to let go of him first.”

“He said he'd come back.”

“But he didn't.”

“He didn't want to.”

“And so you still held onto that promise?”

“I believe some people can keep all of their promises.”

“But not him. You know that underneath all that warmth there is a darkness so cold that it'll freeze your lungs and force you to scream and cry in silence. But... I understand. You find that warmth comforting don't you? In this place, where there is no fire or colour.”

“It's an empty space.”

“But no more. Here, give me the lighter your friend gave to you.” She obeyed, focusing now on his hands with a suspicious look. “We can use it as a candle and make our own flame.”

Her eyes widened and she watched the small flame flicker from the green lighter. She curved her hands around it for a while, and peered close to it. Then, after a moment she moved her hands away and let it flicker freely. “It is... A small flame.”

“Yes, but why only rely on one small possession to light this place up?” He stood up and walked outside for a bit, only to return with various items in his hands. “What about these?”

“Those aren't lighters.”

“But the lighter you gave me has no fuel. You just believed it did. In this place, I think anything can bring us a warmth.”

“Then lets try.”

And so he put various objects in a small pile – objects perhaps only existing by memory, others tangible and still alive. Various books, pens, clothes, watches, stones and feathers laid by both their feet, and both him and her watched the pile glow a bright light.

He looked at her, and noticed she seemed a little different. Still empty but more closer to a smile. He then saw her hold a necklace that was glowing the brightest round her neck.

“Decided to keep that one close huh?”

“Yes, this one is special. I hope that is okay.”

“Of course it is my friend, for you are me, and I am you-”

“-And no longer shall we rely on other's houses.” She sang with a honest melody. “No longer should we burden them with our frosty breath-”

“-For now we can make our own flame,” They both held hands and began to emit a colourful hue. “And when our light becomes brighter we can give them the means to make their own too.”

Box

Imagine everything we suffer goes into a large box.

Our physical illnesses,

Mental anxieties,

All the pain and the depression,

Everything, into the box.

I'd carry this box for you my dear friends,

But alone it's too heavy for me to carry.

However, I'll carry as much as I can,

Even if on the days when you can only carry a little,

I'll always try to lift the box.

Even if it gets heavier,

And even if we all get a little more weaker,

We are strong because we've made a box together,

Something we can share when the other is down.

And with the spare hand, we can pick each other up again.

Just don't forget that this special box is always here,

So there is nothing you need to hide.

No matter what it is,

It's our box,

So it's yours to use as much as mine.

Love yourself

Naked               body
Wrapped   in   warmth,

Soft skin against cloth,

Damp toes tickled,

By gentle rug.

Human.

Ugly

Face.
Legs.
Stomach.
Belch.
Smell.

Shiver.

Cry.
Fade.
Shadow.
Saved.

Long lasting breath,
Beside me.
Ugly girl,
But happy.

My friend

I wanna sing,
In caramel blues,
Holding your hand,
Streetwalkin' through the town.
Rooftops sing along with daytime city birds.
Ol' smell of dust and dirt,
Taint the ice cream parlours with a lively fume.
Cup of coffee,
Down the street.
Smilin' all the way home.
Living a life with you.