ambient series of sounds that (manage to get very noisy, but) never lose their direction

I drank too much wine last night.
Nothing makes any sense.
The time complexity is not constant time.
What I thought was, is not.
(again)
Washed down by an uncaring tide.
Thrown away heartlessly.
Dehydrated.
Slightly decomposed.
A wishing stone is thrown hopelessly​ to a mirage.
Liquid blue just like your dying eyes.
I sympathise.
With black hair, braids.
And black lines around my eyes.
Let the time fly by tonight’s disguise.
A car crash with our wheels like shattered stars.

atomic roses

Fingers flex, and eyelash flickered. Someone’s wicked joke. Could hear
him choking on his laughter as the limbs twitched in the smoke. But it
was just a spasm jive​ because the only sign of life was in the cruel
and icy light of atomic roses.

Metal petals of a dozen beacons, beaming in the dark – to mark the last
resistance, the final protest (did not leave a spark). Even pilgrims kept
their distance, vizors clamped, itching blisters. Shrank in lead suits
from the kiss of atomic roses.

And a figure cut the wire, padded barefoot through the field. Kneeled as
klaxons barked in anger. Guards appeared at windowsills. Tore their hair
in disbelief as a young girl danced beneath, bouquet clutched between
her teeth of atomic roses.

She laughed as thorns grew from her finger, pollen gathered in her hair.
And when she sang the bees responded, perfume lingered in her hair.
Sprinkled seeds, summoned thunder, drank the rain and watched in wonder
as around her sprang a hundred atomic roses.

And scented parcels rode on breezes. Dropped in deserts, dripped on
lawns. Lost in cities, laced the rivers. Brought a new light to the
dawn. With it, sickness flowed – crept insidious and slow, leaving just
the afterglow of atomic roses.

crushed mementos

If I had a fairy godmother, after she picked me off the newly scrubbed bathroom tiles, she would ask me why I was so sad and what is it that she could do to help. She could wave her magic wand and fix just about anything (if she were truly my fairy godmother she would probably have restrictions something like the Genie from Aladdin. And she would definitely have a New England accent and have an acrylic french manicure with nail art. Just saying).

“Why so sad?”

There are people being killed in the name of religion and politics all over the world. People, in general,​ are trying to pretend like nothing is happening. They are more concerned about their new gym membership or the newest iPhone that is out. Racism is running rampant (it has always been said that the 50s were the “Good Ol Days“). I am constantly depressed. My therapist says it is because I have too much stress. I overthink everything which leads to the inability to come to proper conclusions to situations. The man I love has enjoyed his e-life & relations more than he does real life (see: with me). My heart has been broken so many times in the past year that I am not even sure that if I had the energy to gather up all the pieces that they would all still be there.

I am lonely. Directionless.

“Hmm… that is easy enough to fix, my dear!” *waves wand*

People are putting their religions aside to help rebuild the lands they have been destroying. Men are helping widows and their children to get reliable shelter and safety. The dead or being honourably buried and memorialised. The media is not looking for an angle, they are reporting the sudden but positive change as it is happening. No politician is looking for a reason why this is a joke, everyone is pitching in and making a difference. Country leaders are being allowed to do what is best for the people, not for corporations.

I wake up to the ​sun streaming in behind my blinds. It is yellow and warm … I know I should be sceptical (or at least confused) but I just smile, stretch and open the windows to let the winter sun in. I go from room to room, waking all of the residents of the house. Everyone leaves with tea and toast in their bellies and a happy heart. Will kisses me before he runs for the bus – there is no hesitation or worry. He waves from the patio as he walks away. Later he sends me an email that positively undoes all the lies and betrayal he has previously put me through. I do not overanalyse this gesture – I let his words heal me.

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo