No longer a chariot

Unscrew it, dismantle. Unfold it and lay it out.
Pieces.

Monopath

 A familiar taste sits in my throat as I walk home at night. Letting my mind wonder as the streetlights stretch across my vision in a blurry orange beige spectrum, I contemplate on what the taste might be, but it is too unnatural to define as something organic. I let my legs stagger forward as my senses smelt together a complex pattern of ideas and thought. I hear myself groan as my feet kick the curb of the road, but the sound is detached, an automatic response to environment. The utterance is nothing more but dust on the skin of my independent society; My unique brain complex that leaks colour onto the road. Hallucinations of music vibrate kindly, entertaining my thirsty mind, bored of walking.

My Monster

And just like that, the old man on the corner of the street began to laugh, his eyes widened and the veins on his neck began to grow. It did not take long for his height to stretch so tall to cast a great shadow that stripped the sky's light from my face. His crooked stance gave off such a thick darkness, it trapped the colourless air above and dyed it into a grey mist which quickly began to drown my lungs. His face was something I'll always remember, as never had I saw a grin stretch so wide.

The Scientist

"The experiment worked!" The scientist said, he looked at his fellow colleges who just nodded their heads. They did what they were told, and if the scientist was happy, so were they. That's how the system worked. And that's how it'll stay. It wasn't long before another situation arrived, all hands on deck, all sleep deprived. "It's time to get that engine rolling again!" The scientist bellowed, so loud the lab shook, and nearly broke the fragile glass below. The colleges obeyed and turned on the system, reading to observe the new mission, impossible situation rolling on the screen like a documentry film. It featured, as always, a twisted play, must like the ones you see today. But the ones you see are the ones on screen, the ones you'd pay to watch at eighteen.But this game wasn't just for fun, it was an experiment. That's what the scientist said, so that was what it was. This was the lab inside the head, of a mind that was never fed, learning for a mad cause.

The Desk I

It's late again, and I can't help thinking about the many times I was close to you. My dear friend. The candle burns and casts a shadow on my desk. I relate more to the shadow than the flame now, your distance is so far as to sit in an entirely different world. Sometimes your friends tag your photos online, photos of happy smiles with people I don't recognise. I guess time moves on, and your shadow moves further away. I would contact you, but other than for the sake of loneliness I wouldn't know what to say. Maybe I'll wait next month and say happy birthday. But that'll make me just another message, a sentence with no real meaning. I don't want to be just another person you met some time ago, but I'm afraid to admit that some friends come and go. But just so you know, a reply from you would make my day, don't be afraid to say “I miss you” sometime soon.

Check up.

So I sit and wait and listen to the empty chatter and the footsteps and the bag rummaging over and over, keys found three minutes ago but the lady by the corner persists on seeing them so I listen with my legs crossed and watch doctor upon doctor pass by posing like school teachers with their high heads and clipboards, trainee doctors following like snotty uptight prefects. I guess then that makes the group of nurses down the corridor like support staff, echoing a stupid little voice when they tell you what you need to do. I don't feel like an adult when I'm in hospital. I feel trapped again.

Waiting

Sometimes when I am alone and have time to kill, I will sit by a bus shelter and write very short stories called flash fiction with my mobile phone.

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I stood outside your door, I couldn't think anymore. As I left your children playing music I decided to see you tomorrow.

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Kind of cold, out on the streets, not doing really doing anything. I like the smell of the restaurant nearby, it's sweet and so tasty its as if I'm eating the air. Kind of... Just sitting here, appreciating the sounds in the distance, the hum of the bus and wow, the guitar plays through so loud as if its in my room. Its sound is unrecognisable yet so distinct in its electric buzz, pardon me but its even distorted a little! When this sound stops I think and feel alone again. As the sound returns it wakes me from a bad sleep. Neither my toes nor fingers feel as cold as they should, and my neck, though reminding me swiftly that writing my thoughts on a phone isn't convenient especially when I can't spell, doesn't feel achy as it should. This makes my cold feel better and the streets look beautiful. I still sit, the bus behind me comes so close to the shelter I sit up a bit, as the street lights dazzle and the music sings

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Diamonds sometimes pass the opportunity to visit their more dull and colourless cousins. I'm not a diamond – not from that make up at all, but even though I'm hardly a spark I still wave my hand at things that I should say hello to. I will always admire those who say yes instead of maybe. Sitting help with zilch to do, I quietly tell myself – next time, defiantly next time, I'll say yes.

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When I said kind of cold, I meant really cold. The streets now play their usual night melody – icy wind, shaking trees, a few cars, and a couple of buses roaring impatiently. Brr, why did I stay for so long so pointlessly? Now by some odd motion of wind my right face freezes as I wait for the bus to come, something that may take a long time indeed – I don't know, I didn't really check the second time and the first time hasn't came and now I'm struggling to type but actually I'm ok, I got to go out today, minus the disaster. Oh boy. I hope he didn't notice. Maybe I won't... No. I want to. I really do. He must think me a creepy. Oh, I really hope he wasn't behind me so much. I hope this bus comes soon I'm freezing! I keep looking but no luck, the kind gentleman beside me cleared my seat from his litter, my legs are cold maybe I should have walked. Frozen mind too cold to think sense. I'm. Just. Waiting.