as promised...
The Benz (stick with this one it comes together at the end):
The Benz (stick with this one it comes together at the end):
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
The Benz
Above me the light bulb spins trailing white spiralling lines. I'm lying in a bed that's not mine. Sunk so deep I'd contract the benz if I got up now. The change of pressure would crush my lungs like empty coke cans. Waves of covers crest away from me rushing to spill over the end of the bed, off the edge of my world.
I am the cliff face rising defiantly above the waves. Panic tingles in my fingers. I shouldn't be here again. My hands are coastlines. My breasts are mountains. My lips are lush rainforests. My hair is black storming cloud.
The decay hasn't started yet. I'm soaring high over myself. Out stretched fingers wet with cloud vapour. Below the trees strain upwards to catch me. I feel their thick roots tingling deep in flesh. The light bulb's a moon, soft and pale, illuminating my gentle landing amongst my arms long grass. It tickles my bare feet as I touch down on to myself. Here there is no sadness, no memory, no future. Simply decaying tranquillity.
I've sacrificed a lot to be here, everything. The thought lurches into calm; a black tendril lashing from my heart. The trees are loosing leaves. This is how my kingdom dies. Soon I will hear fragmented sounds then louder, harsher, they'll pull me back to where you function. But for now the breeze rustles tall grass. Eventually I will feel fear. I must walk to my lake. I can be there longest.
Its warm but the breeze is damp and cool. It's touch reminding me of the earth, sea, and climates shifting away from me in all directions until eventually they return to touch me from the opposite side. My earth within earth is connected to all places with a breeze and a movement of particles. My atomic essence is as ancient as all things in the universe. Time itself curves from me on a gradient to return again. Perhaps we all travel curves of creation and destruction. We've dubbed those moments 'The Big Bang' and 'Crunch', but I believe it's a Pulse. Infinity's heart beat. We live as earths on earth.
The lake is always tranquil disturbed only by the ripples of fragmented memory. Pure smiles, a tender genuine touch, her warmth. If I don't concentrate I can hear the ripples. Concentration solidifies panic, and decay.
This is all I wish to be. I am tired of the hurt, lies, and struggle. Tussling for fresh air and clean water. Over worked, my face draped in fake smiles. I hope it bleeds and burns. I hope it turns sour, and rot hollows everything until it all collapses.
I walk into the lake. The water isn't wet it simply holds me. I'm a solution suspended outside of time.
My veins are harder now, perhaps this time I'll never leave. I'll never have to be a shell again. Afraid knowing that I love Gods chemicals more then his flesh. Here I worship. Here I blaspheme. I heard the phrase 'requiem in a dream' but if this is dreaming I sleep with my eyes wide open running through traffic.
I didn't watch my life fall apart. I prioritised. Chemical over cheats. Feeling over dreams. Most people walk their lives living only half in the present. There reality is an amalgamation of what they're force-fed. Spending their time day dreaming of futures whilst reliving the same white washed cycles. Never once acknowledging the simple fact that the future never does come.
My veins may have hardened but my heart is supple. Traffic sounds drift on a breeze rippling the black, dry, waters that hold me. I immerse myself fully into the lakes silence. My head submerged I can't breath.
Amongst the grey, I'm told Love is our saviour. It paints masterpieces on the white space of our imaginations. It engraves texture on smoothed corporate minds. It opens the narrowest of perspectives to a brief glimpse of the universes infinity.
As much as we try we can't market Love, it's beyond our manipulation. Lust, longing, desire we bottle, ship, extort and sell but as much as we may pervert the name we cannot make love a commodity. It's copy write the universe.
Thirst is one of the other signs that my world, in a world, will crumble soon. Way above me, across the grass plains of my skin, above the peaks of my breast, my lips crack. The motion shakes my lake. Jogging me inside its suspension.
You'd call me an addict. You'd pity me and condemn my choices never once suspecting that I'd do the same to you.
Kobain, Hendrix, Rosak, Weren't unhappy because of drugs. They were unhappy because of flesh and ideas. Chemicals found them and held them, for good or worse. We are all suspended but my solution is here and now, vibrant and destructive.
And yes, I loved somebody. I loved somebody and it ended with heartache, and longing, and nights feeling like the stars themselves could feel me breath. But not because I still wanted that person but because I realised I was alone. Now I love but never fear separation. My love is divinely astute. Let me cradle a needle and kiss its tip.
My chest shakes out a heart palpitation. I still cant breath. I can smell the rain on fresh tarmac outside. Its scent falling into my suspension like the light of the stars I know aren't really shinning above me.
Maybe this time your pity will be in retrospect.
The Benz
Above me the light bulb spins trailing white spiralling lines. I'm lying in a bed that's not mine. Sunk so deep I'd contract the benz if I got up now. The change of pressure would crush my lungs like empty coke cans. Waves of covers crest away from me rushing to spill over the end of the bed, off the edge of my world.
I am the cliff face rising defiantly above the waves. Panic tingles in my fingers. I shouldn't be here again. My hands are coastlines. My breasts are mountains. My lips are lush rainforests. My hair is black storming cloud.
The decay hasn't started yet. I'm soaring high over myself. Out stretched fingers wet with cloud vapour. Below the trees strain upwards to catch me. I feel their thick roots tingling deep in flesh. The light bulb's a moon, soft and pale, illuminating my gentle landing amongst my arms long grass. It tickles my bare feet as I touch down on to myself. Here there is no sadness, no memory, no future. Simply decaying tranquillity.
I've sacrificed a lot to be here, everything. The thought lurches into calm; a black tendril lashing from my heart. The trees are loosing leaves. This is how my kingdom dies. Soon I will hear fragmented sounds then louder, harsher, they'll pull me back to where you function. But for now the breeze rustles tall grass. Eventually I will feel fear. I must walk to my lake. I can be there longest.
Its warm but the breeze is damp and cool. It's touch reminding me of the earth, sea, and climates shifting away from me in all directions until eventually they return to touch me from the opposite side. My earth within earth is connected to all places with a breeze and a movement of particles. My atomic essence is as ancient as all things in the universe. Time itself curves from me on a gradient to return again. Perhaps we all travel curves of creation and destruction. We've dubbed those moments 'The Big Bang' and 'Crunch', but I believe it's a Pulse. Infinity's heart beat. We live as earths on earth.
The lake is always tranquil disturbed only by the ripples of fragmented memory. Pure smiles, a tender genuine touch, her warmth. If I don't concentrate I can hear the ripples. Concentration solidifies panic, and decay.
This is all I wish to be. I am tired of the hurt, lies, and struggle. Tussling for fresh air and clean water. Over worked, my face draped in fake smiles. I hope it bleeds and burns. I hope it turns sour, and rot hollows everything until it all collapses.
I walk into the lake. The water isn't wet it simply holds me. I'm a solution suspended outside of time.
My veins are harder now, perhaps this time I'll never leave. I'll never have to be a shell again. Afraid knowing that I love Gods chemicals more then his flesh. Here I worship. Here I blaspheme. I heard the phrase 'requiem in a dream' but if this is dreaming I sleep with my eyes wide open running through traffic.
I didn't watch my life fall apart. I prioritised. Chemical over cheats. Feeling over dreams. Most people walk their lives living only half in the present. There reality is an amalgamation of what they're force-fed. Spending their time day dreaming of futures whilst reliving the same white washed cycles. Never once acknowledging the simple fact that the future never does come.
My veins may have hardened but my heart is supple. Traffic sounds drift on a breeze rippling the black, dry, waters that hold me. I immerse myself fully into the lakes silence. My head submerged I can't breath.
Amongst the grey, I'm told Love is our saviour. It paints masterpieces on the white space of our imaginations. It engraves texture on smoothed corporate minds. It opens the narrowest of perspectives to a brief glimpse of the universes infinity.
As much as we try we can't market Love, it's beyond our manipulation. Lust, longing, desire we bottle, ship, extort and sell but as much as we may pervert the name we cannot make love a commodity. It's copy write the universe.
Thirst is one of the other signs that my world, in a world, will crumble soon. Way above me, across the grass plains of my skin, above the peaks of my breast, my lips crack. The motion shakes my lake. Jogging me inside its suspension.
You'd call me an addict. You'd pity me and condemn my choices never once suspecting that I'd do the same to you.
Kobain, Hendrix, Rosak, Weren't unhappy because of drugs. They were unhappy because of flesh and ideas. Chemicals found them and held them, for good or worse. We are all suspended but my solution is here and now, vibrant and destructive.
And yes, I loved somebody. I loved somebody and it ended with heartache, and longing, and nights feeling like the stars themselves could feel me breath. But not because I still wanted that person but because I realised I was alone. Now I love but never fear separation. My love is divinely astute. Let me cradle a needle and kiss its tip.
My chest shakes out a heart palpitation. I still cant breath. I can smell the rain on fresh tarmac outside. Its scent falling into my suspension like the light of the stars I know aren't really shinning above me.
Maybe this time your pity will be in retrospect.
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